


the Princess of Yi Ti

by The_Jade_Samurai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grey Jon, Japan and Korea, Lion of Night, Maiden-Made-Of-Light, Original Character(s), Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, R Plus L Equals J, Samurai!Jon, The Long Night, War of the Five Kings, Yi Ti, Yi Ti is a combination of Imperial China, but also still Honourable Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-26 19:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 65,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21378982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jade_Samurai/pseuds/The_Jade_Samurai
Summary: While on a trip to visit the Manderlys of White Harbour with his father, Jon witnesses a horrible accident off the shore during a storm, leaving only three survivors. Two warriors in strange armour, and a young girl who Jon develops a strong friendship with. How will their arrival to the North change Jon's destiny?UNDERGOING REWRITE
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow/Original Female Character(s), Roslin Frey/Robb Stark
Comments: 136
Kudos: 338





	1. The Shipwreck

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head ramdomly, and I wanted to explore it. Because we know so little of Yi ti I've taken a fair bit of creative liberty with what it and its people are like in order to suit the needs of my story, but I promise it'll be good! Maybe...

Above White Harbour, the skies were turning a dark grey, darker than what the North was used to at least. The air was deathly calm, and many of the smallfolk within the city had already fled indoors for their own safety. Jon could feel the climate changing as it prepared for what promised to be one of the largest storms the North had seen in years.

  
At fourteen years of age, this was the furthest Jon had travelled, and the most south he'd been as well. His father, Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North had decided that Jon, as well as his brother Robb needed to see more of the kingdom that Robb would one day be ruling. As a bastard Jon had no idea why he'd been asked to come along, but he had readily agreed as it meant that he'd be away from the cold criticism of Father's wife Lady Catelyn for a few weeks. That being said, Jon did miss his other half-siblings, especially Arya. 

  
The small entourage of Winterfell men arrived at the main gate of New Keep, the home of House Manderly. Awaiting them were a score of men and women, with the two men at the front enormously fat like the walruses that dwelled on the island of Skagos. Jon recognised them as Sers Wylis and Wendel Manderly, sons of Lord Wyman Manderly from their visits to Winterfell. They were both fat to the point of absurdity, though their reputations as fierce warriors stopped anyone from outright mocking them. Unless one was good friends with the Manderlys of course, which gratefully the Starks were. After all, it was the old Kings of Winter who gave the harbour to the Manderlys after they were driven from the Reach centuries ago. 

  
Pleasantries were exchanged before Father and the Manderlys, during which Father introduced Jon and Robb to Sers Wylis and Wendel. By now most of the Lords of the North had come to accept that Jon was a permanent fixture in the Stark household, even if he was a bastard and that Lady Catelyn hated him, so the Manderlys were neither offended nor surprised at his presence. They were, however, rather keen to speak to him about his swordsmanship and watch him, for whatever reason Jon couldn't fathom.

  
(It wasn't until later that night that Robb told him that his skills as a swordsman were already starting to spread, even though he'd yet to see any real combat). 

  
Per Lord Wyman Manderly's reputation, he put on a spectacular feast that had every man and woman’s bellies full of good food and ale. Lord Wyman's granddaughters Wylla and Wynafryd were both pushed in Robb's direction not-too discretely, no doubt in a bid for one of them to catch the heir to Winterfell's eye for a potential match between the two Houses. Jon had no hope for that kind of life as a bastard, but in a way it gave him a lot more freedom, for example to marry for love instead of duty on day.

  
However, that was the last thing on Jon's mind. Throughout the feast, the howling winds and rain picked up in noise and intensity, and it seemed like he was the only one noticing. Even Father, ever quiet and observant of everything around him was too engrossed in conversation with Lord Wyman and Ser Wylis to notice the raging storm.

  
“Ease up Snow, it's not every day one gets to enjoy a feast held by the mermen,” said Robb with an easy laugh. The Manderly girls giggled at his joke, but Jon suspected that they merely laughed to gain his favour. 

  
“Do you not hear the storm outside brother?” asked Jon worriedly. Even as he said that, thunder crackled above the hall, rattling the large room slightly. However, Robb seemed nonplussed.

  
“Don't worry about it. We're safe in the castle,” he said. 

  
“And what about the smallfolk living in walls less sturdy than this?” retorted Jon.

  
When Robb didn't answer right away, Jon had enough and felt compelled to leave the feast, so he abruptly stood up, much to Robb's confusion and slight annoyance and departed the hall. Jon didn't know where he was going, but he followed his feet until he was suddenly outside. The rain was light hut falling hard, hitting his skin with a slight sting and within a minute his breeches and tunic were soaked, as well as his long dark hair. The guards on duty ignored him as he walked along the outer walls of the New Castle until he was facing the turbulent ocean. Jon couldn't see much through the tempest, but he knew where the White Knife and Seal Rock were located. In the distance, he could make out the outline of the great fortress/turned prison of the Wolf's Den. Jon felt some sympathy for the men being forced to guard Seal Rock and the outer walls of the city, as they were the ones most likely taking the brunt of the storm's impact. 

  
The waves were churning powerfully, some so large that they almost tumbled over the great outer walls of the harbour, white water foaming and splashing dangerously. Ships docked on the harbour rocked back and forth precariously, looking like they were about to capsize any minute even if they were great big galleons built for shipping huge amounts of goods or for warfare. Jon didn't think that anyone would want to be out in the open ocean at this time.

  
However, in the distance just off shore, beyond the outer wall, Jon saw a flickering light. He squinted his eyes and brushed the hair out of his face, and saw it again. Somehow, he could make out a ship of strange design being tossed through the winds and waves, looking battered and on the verge of sinking. The light Jon had seen must have been from torches or lanterns impossibly still-aflame. It looked like at any second the ship was going to sink, killing everyone on board.

  
“Guards! _Guards!_” shouted Jon as he felt a dread feeling of panic come over him. He wasn't sure if anyone could hear him over the howling wind, but an alarm needed to be raised. Thankfully a passing guard saw him shouting and came over to see what was wrong.

  
“What is it boy?” he asked in a slightly annoyed tone, his wet face cpntorted into a scowl.

  
“There! There's a ship in danger of sinking!” screamed Jon. He pointed to where he could see the ship being jostled closer to the harbour shore, near some jagged rocks at the bottom of the outer wall. 

  
“Seven Hells!” swore the guard before taking off, disappearing into the darkness. Jon waited impatiently for the guard to return, his eyes never leaving the ship as it neared the rocks dangerously.

  
The very second the ship splintered to pieces against the rocks, the loud bell began chiming. 

  
The guard returned and grabbed Jon by the arm roughly and said, “You need to lead us to the ship seeing as you know where it is.”  
Jon didn't even hesitate before following the man towards where a group pf assembled guards were waiting with ropes and grapple hooks. They waited for the guard to explain why Jon was with him before they took off together, leaving the New Castle completely. 

  
It was extremely difficult to get through the town due to the slippery roads and strong winds that threatened to sweep every man off their feet, and every second that passed by Jon's feeling of urgency mingled with dread grew. They needed to find the ship and help any survivors as quickly as they could before they either drowned or were bashed against the sharp rocky cliffs. Eventually, after almost twenty minutes at least, the rescue party arrived at where Jon saw the ship crash.

  
Even through the darkness and rain, Jon could tell that the scene was a mess. Wood was splintered everywhere, either strewn across the rocks or being swept out to sea. There were boxes, crates and barrels amongst the destruction, as well as a few bodies that were quickly recovered by the rescue party. Jon tried his best to help recover the bodies, but while doing so he noticed that there was something peculiar about the people and ship. 

  
Many parts of the ruined ship was made of a strange, flexible yet strong-looking wood that Jon had never seen before. The wood was round and thin, slightly hollow and had natural ridges that ran at even intervals around the circumference of the outside. The people were even stranger. Some were wearing strange, loose-fitting clothing similar to what sailors wore, but seemed more simple yet comfortable. Others, who were clearly warriors had strange armour that was loose and plated, and looked to be made out of a combination of steel, leather and wood in a design Jon had never seen before. Even their characteristics were different: hair black as night, pale skin and short in stature. So far, only one man had been found to be alive, and he’d tried to put up a fight before collapsing from exhaustion.

  
_Who are these people? Where did they come from?_ thought Jon. He spotted what looked to be a sword sheathed in its scabbard, connected to another, shorter sword wedged in between some rocks. He went over and pulled the swords out of the rock, then drew the longest one out of its scabbard. It was shorter than a longsword, with a single edge and moderately curved blade. When lightning flashed above Jon, the blade gleamed slightly, but he saw the unmistakeable rippling patterns in the steel, indicating that the sword was made out of Valyrian steel. Once again, Jon wondered who these strange people were. 

  
He didn't a chance to dwell on that however, because lightning flashed through the sky again, and this time, Jon saw something else, or rather, someone else. Jon jammed the two swords into his belt without a thought and ran over to the unmoving person while being careful of the slippery rocks. He reached the person and rolled the body over, but gasped in shock. Every other body found so far had been male, but this person was a female, and not just a female, but a girl who looked no older than Jon himself. She was in a dress as strange as the clothes worn by the others, and Jon thought she was dead like the others until she suddenly started to cough out water. She looked up at Jon briefly before falling unconscious again, but Jon saw how dark her eyes were. 

  
Jon looked around to see if any of the rescue party was around, but they all seemed far too distracted by removing the bodies and whatever cargo they could salvage before the sea claimed them. Jon sighed, but he hoisted the girl up into his arms, and was only briefly surprised that he had picked her up so easily like she weighed less than nothing. But that wasn't his main focus right now. What he needed to concentrate on was getting this girl and himself out of harms way. It proved to be trickier going up the rocks than down with the added weight of the girl as well as having both hand occupied holding her, and a there were a few moments when Jon slipped and scraped his knees against the sharp rocks. However, he succeeded and brought the girl to safety.

  
“You found someone else... wait, is that a girl?” said one of the men who saw Jon.

  
Jon, too tired to speak, merely nodded his head in response as he held the girl protectively. He may be young, but Jon knew that there were some men in the world who preferred it when their women were vulnerable. And the girl in his arms was very vulnerable right now. 

  
Fortunately, all the other men seemed too tired themselves to try any sort of bad things, so they left Jon and the girl be while tending to the others. Once they had secured as many people and items as they could, the rescue party headed back to New Castle. Somebody must have gone ahead to warn the keep's inhabitants of what had transpired, because upon arrival they were immediately swarmed by servants and other men, who relieved the tired rescuers of their burdens. 

  
Jon, however, wouldn't let go of the unconscious girl in his arms when one of the guards tried to take her from him.

  
“No! I can take her,” he said vehemently.

  
“You look tired and cold boy,” argued the guard. 

  
“I said I can-“ began Jon.

  
“Jon!” called out a voice. Jon groaned on the inside as he turned around to see his father and Robb coming towards him. They faltered slightly at the sight of the girl in his arms, but Father's face retained that icy expression that often made Jon scared as a little boy.

  
“Give the man the girl Jon,” ordered Father.

  
“I can look after her,” argued Jon.

  
“You can look after her once you yourself are rested and warmed up,” said Father. 

  
“I can let you know where the girl is, if you’d like my lord,” offered the guard in a hopeful voice.

  
Father nodded to the guard, and Jon reluctantly let the man take the girl from him. He watched as the guard disappeared with the girl in his arms, before Father put a hand on his shoulder.

  
“What were you thinking Jon?” he hissed quietly. “It was reckless and dangerous of you to go out there into the middle of the storm and risk your life for that rescue.”

  
“I was the one who saw the ship crash!” said Jon indignantly. 

  
“You put your life in danger!” snapped Father. 

  
Jon opened his mouth to continue arguing, but then snapped it shut. He knew that Father was right, but at the same couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for what he had done. So he straightened his back and did his best to force his body to remain still, in spite of the fact that he was now freezing cold and shivering. Father and Robb both looked a little surprised at Jon's silent display of defiance.

  
“If you must punish me my lord, then so be it. But I shall not apologise for helping a person in need,” he said.

  
A strange look passed over Father's face briefly before it disappeared, and he shook his head. 

  
“Just be more careful next time,” he said in a tired voice before walking away to talk with some of the men helping with the rescue's aftermath. In the meantime, Robb sidled up next to Jon and pointed at the swords tucked into his belt.

  
“What have you got there?” he asked. 

  
In truth, Jon had completely forgotten about the swords, but now that Robb had pointed them out, he couldn't miss them.

  
“Come with me,” he said before grabbing Robb by the arm and dragging him away from the busy courtyard. 

  
They entered a room before Jon closed the door, then before Robb could say anything, he drew the two blades from their sheathes. In the torchlight, it was easier to see the rippling patterns in the blades that indicated it was made by the ancient dragonlords. However, in the better lighting, Jon noticed that the patterns were darker and thicker than what he had seen on his lord father's greatsword Ice. He wasn't sure if that was a design flaw or if it was intentional, but it made the blade seem all the more sharper. 

  
“Wow,” said Robb appreciatively. “Where did you find it?”

  
“With the destroyed ship,” answered Jon. He gave the longer sword a twirl in his hands, relishing in how light the weapon was. However, it was balanced differently to what he was used to and he almost dropped it, then grunted in annoyance. 

  
Robb laughed, but then quickly grew sober and said, “I've never seen weapons like this in my life, or in any book I've read. And from what I saw of the people, they're definitely not Westerosi.”

  
Jon's mind went back to the girl he had rescued. Her clothes, pale skin, black hair and petite frame were definitely not anything he hadn't seen before, but her overall characteristics were not familiar to him. Jon silently extended his hand out, asking Robb to hand the smaller blade back. 

  
Robb reluctantly did so, but asked, “What do you plan on doing with those?”

  
“I'm going to give them back to the owner if he's still alive,” answered Jon. He didn't want to, Valyrian steel was so rare and valuable that lords were willing to sell their entire lands and birthright for just a small piece. However it wasn't fair for Jon to take the prized weapons unless the owner had been killed in the shipwreck.

  
Robb looked disappointed in his answer, but mentioned it no more. What he did do though was order his half-brother to go take a steaming hot bath and warm up, as his lips had turned an unhealthy shade of purple from the cold. Jon did as his brother suggested, but his mind was still on the girl he had saved when he fell asleep later.

  
That night, he dreamed of a wrathful monster made of ice and death chasing a young maiden whose countenance shined like the sun through a frostbitten forest. The maiden tripped and fell to the ground and screamed as the ice monster pounced upon her, but she was saved by three beasts that forced the ice monster to retreat from their fury. 

  
The first was a large white wolf with blood-red eyes that stood as tall as the girl from the shoulder. The second, a dragon, white as snow like the wolf but had blue eyes, its wings glittering in the moonlight like blue diamonds. And the last beast, a lion with fur black as night, but had silver stripes running along its back like a tiger. It stood much taller than the wolf but smaller than the dragon, yet was undoubtedly the most fearsome of them all. When it turned its great maned head away from the maiden to look at Jon, its eyes glowed like the moon, white and powerful. 


	2. The Jeonsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback this story has gotten so far, and it's only chapter one! Your reviews and comments really help motivate me to write more!
> 
> The reason I've taken an interest in writing fanfiction featuring Asian original characters is because I spent a year and a half living in Japan, and as such the country and its people are very dear to my heart. This is kind of my way of paying tribute to the nation that changed my life. Though Korean culture will also play a significant role in this story as well, mostly because my girlfriend's family are originally from there and she got me hooked on K-pop lol #whipped.

The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving the clearest blue skies that the North rarely saw. There were very little clouds visible, and seagulls flew high overhead, squawking loudly as they searched for food. It was a stark contrast to the destruction the storm had left behind. The streets were littered with debris from houses and shops, and a couple of the less structurally-sound buildings had been blown completely over. The reports coming into New Castle indicated that White Harbour was in dire need of repairs, and Lord Manderly was quick to respond to the pleas of his people. 

  
For Jon, his whole body ached with the exertion of last night's rescue mission. Battling fierce winds, cold rain and strong waves had taken much out of him, and as he walked with Robb to the dining hall, it was with stiff joints and muscles that ached every time he moved. Robb teased him about it, but Jon could tell that his brother was secretly proud of what he had done last night. 

  
Jon wanted to see the girl he had saved, but his father had told him that the maester said she was still asleep. Apparently, she and two other people, one the man who had tried fighting some of the rescuers and another a warrior woman who had been found with a larger version of the swords Jon had recovered strapped across her last night were the only three still alive. The rest had either been killed during the shipwreck or died during the night from their injuries or hypothermia. That saddened Jon some, but it didn't answer the question as to who these people were and where they had come from. 

  
That question though, was answered by the maester of New Keep, Theomore. Apparently, in between tended to the dying sailors as well as the two survivors, he had been going through his books and records to determine the origins of these strange people. He'd found an answer and wanted to share it with Lords Stark and Manderly, as well as their sons. Jon however, was not invited on account of his baseborn origins. So he went down into the practice yard to train with the men-at-arms until Robb came to find him and tell him everything. 

  
He did, over an hour later with a look of thoughtfulness mixed with awe on his face. Jon had immediately stopped beating down one of the guards in the yard and rushed over to his brother.

  
“Well, what did the maester tell you?” he asked impatiently. 

  
Robb looked around the yard, not answering his question straight away. “We should probably find somewhere private to speak,” he said. 

  
Robb's answer annoyed Jon some, but whatever he had to say must be important. So Jon kept his mouth shut and followed his brother out of the training yard into the castle. Jon was itching to ask Robb what was going on, but he kept his impatience to himself as best he could. But he wondered where they were going too. Robb seemed to have a specific destination in mind, which he wasn't sharing with Jon for some reason until they entered into a room.

  
The room was the one the girl was resting in. Right now, she was still unconscious and tucked under the furs of the bed, looking as if she was asleep. Her thin lips were no longer blue from the cold, having returned to a rosey-pink colour, though her black hair was loose and draped over her shoulders like a dark curtain. 

  
In the back of Jon's mind, he knew that he and his brother being alone in a room with a girl was inappropriate and scandalous, but he wasn't focussed on that right now. 

  
“So?” he all but demanded.

  
Robb took a deep breath before saying, “They're from Yi Ti.”

  
“Yi Ti?” repeated Jon. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. 

  
“According to the maester,” said Robb. “He said that they have the same features as a Yi Tish person, including the clothing and abundant use of bamboo in the ship's wood.”

  
“What's bamboo?” asked Jon.

  
“That round flexible wood we've been seeing,” answered Robb.

  
Jon glanced at the sleeping girl. She and her friends were from Yi Ti? That was all the way in eastern Essos. The trip from there all the way to White Harbour would take months, if not an entire year! Hardly anyone knew about Yi Ti, except for that it was an ancient land that had become one of the most powerful empires the world had ever seen. They were a political superpower even before the Valyrians had learned to tame dragons some five-thousand years ago and, if legend was to be believed, existed as far back as the Age of Heroes. Very little was known about the land as the people were fiercely jealous of their records, and very few outsiders were allowed into the country. 

  
“Why do you think they came all the way out here?” asked Jon.

  
“I don't know. Perhaps they were adventurers exploring the known world?” suggested Robb.

  
“I doubt anyone would bring a girl like her on a voyage like that,” said Jon, nodding towards the sleeping girl. 

  
“Fine then, a trade ship perhaps. They did find a lot of supplies on the ship,” said Robb.

  
Jon shook his head. “Half of the crew on board were either sailors or warriors. And nobody found anything particularly valuable,” he said.

  
“Except for those swords you found,” pointed out Robb. 

  
Jon shrugged. That was true, but it still didn't explain the large concentration of soldiers found on board. They must have been guarding something important. But as Jon looked at the sleeping girl, he thought that perhaps the warriors may have been guarding someone. 

  
“Has anyone talked to the survivors yet?” he asked without taking his eyes off the girl.

  
“No. The woman has been drifting between life and death all night, and the man has developed a fever that's left him half-mad and talking in his sleep,” said Robb. “And the girl, well, you already know the answer to that.”

  
Jon took his eyes off the girl to look back at his brother. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly, to both boys' shock, the girl sprang out of bed, holding a small knife like a weapon. Jon and Robb both tensed up at the possible danger they were both in. It was almost comical though, seeing as they were both larger and stronger than the girl, but the way she was gripping the knife indicated that she knew how to use it. She wasn't wearing the strange dress Jon had found her in, instead being clothed in a white nightgown. Her dress was actually neatly folded on a table to the side of the room.

  
Jon quickly put his hands up in the air and tried to relax the tension in his shoulders to show that he meant no harm, but the girl didn't back down at all. Jon took that time to study her. The girl was petite and short, with skin that was a shade darker than milk and long, slightly frizzy black hair that fell halfway down her back, with bangs covering her forehead. Her eyes were almond shaped and the irises dark to the point they were almost black like Jon's, but instead of being dark grey they were brown. She had a small, round jaw and her nose was small like a button too, but her head was proportioned to make everything look normal-sized. Her cheeks were flushed red currently and she looked angry and frightened at the same time, which Jon thought to be rather amusing given that even though she was clearly scowling, there were no visible wrinkles on her forehead. 

  
Jon had to admit that the girl was actually very pretty, even if she was currently brandishing a butter knife. 

  
“Easy, easy,” said Jon in as assuring a voice as he could. The girl remained rigid, her eyes flickering back and forth between Jon and Robb every time one of them moved. She said something loudly and rapidly that neither boy could understand, and they glanced at each other in confusion. Robb could only shrug at Jon as to what to do.

  
“Go find Father, or somebody,” said Jon. Robb didn't even question him, but gave a concerned look before dashing out of the room. Once the door was shut, Jon tried to smile at the girl, but it felt more like a grimace on his face than anything else. He took a tentative step forward, his hands still raised to show he meant no harm. The girl narrowed her eyes slightly at his slow approach, but she didn't move which Jon took as a good sign.

  
“My name is Jon,” he said slowly. When the girl cocked her head to the side in confusion, he pointed to himself and said, “Jon.”

  
“Jon,” repeated the girl. She had dragged the ‘n’ sound out a little longer than normal, but Jon didn't mind. He figured she got the basic idea down. 

  
“Your name?” he inquired, pointing to her.

  
“Chae,” said the girl. She relaxed a little, straightening her posture to stand taller, though she barely reached Jon's chin at full height. 

  
Jon smiled a little more genuinely and put his hands down to his side before stepping closer to Chae. However, she tensed up and brought her knife up again defensively. Jon immediately stopped moving, and waited for Chae to ease up before cautiously stepping forward once more.

  
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said quietly.

  
Chae clearly didn't understand him and looked like she would lunge forward and gut him. But Jon knew that she was just scared and was reacting accordingly. She probably had no idea where she was or where her friends were, and she probably wouldn't understand anything if Jon told her that all but herself and two other people survived the wreck. Jon wished he could speak her language to let her know she was safe. 

  
Eventually Chae understood that Jon meant her no harm, and he was now close enough that he reached out and grabbed the knife. Chae resisted just a little bit, but she relented when Jon pulled a little harder. 

  
“I won't hurt you,” promised Jon. 

  
Chae seemed to understand that, because she nodded her head and ducked it. She moved away from Jon sit on herbed, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She started to cry, and suddenly Jon felt extremely awkward. He wanted to help and comfort Chae, but how? He'd never been good at talking to girls to begin with, actually he wasn't the most social person to begin with. Robb was far better at that than he ever would be, and he would definitely know how to help Chae right now. Then again, neither he nor Jon knew how to speak what Jon assumed was Yi Tish.

  
Jon wasn't sure how much time had passed before Chae calmed down, during which Jon stood at the side of the bed shuffling back and forth on his feet like a complete fool. Chae wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and hopped off the bed, then brushed past Jon to where her clothes had been put. She picked up one of the undergarments and made to take her nightgown off, then paused. She looked over her shoulder and gave Jon a significant look.

  
“Oh!” exclaimed Jon. She meant to get dressed, and Jon had been staring at her like a pervert. “Right. Um, I'll be outside then,” he said, gesturing to the door. Chae nodded and Jon made his hasty retreat outside, then once he closed the door he leant against it and groaned. 

  
_Not your finest moment Snow_, Jon thought to himself bitterly.

* * *

Over the next few days, while Father was busy discussing business with Lord Manderly, Jon spent his time either training in the yard or with his new friend Chae. The language barrier made it difficult to communicate effectively, but Jon could tell that the foreign girl was beginning to trust him. She’d been most grateful when Jon had given her the two Valyrian steel swords he'd found during the rescue, but she’d also been saddened. It had been hard to coax anything out of her for the rest of the day after that.

  
In spite of the obvious differences in language, Jon had managed to learn a few things about Chae. She was only a few months older than himself (which was a little surprising as Jon had assumed he was a few years older than her) and enjoyed reading, singing and dancing, but what she had showed Jon was unlike any of the dances the Seven Kingdoms knew. She was also very intelligent, and had been trying to learn some words and phrases in the Common Tongue to make communication easier. So far, the only thing Chae knew how to say was, “I'm hungry,” and “I'm sleepy.” She had a rather high-pitched voice that reminded Jon of a little girl as well which he found a little cute. 

  
Five days after the shipwreck, news reached Jon and Chae that the other two survivors had recovered from their illnesses. Apparently, they were both fluent in Common Tongue and had been asking servants if they knew if a young girl had survived the crash. Chae was ecstatic to hear about that and wanted to go see them straight away, but Father had forbidden her until later in the evening. Chae had been angry about that, and Jon got the feeling that the girl wasn't used to not getting her own way. He also wondered if she was a noble in Yi Ti, based on the way she acted and carried herself. 

  
When evening came, Jon and Father both had a hard time keeping up with Chae practically sprinted down the hallways through New Castle to meet with her friends. She was holding the swords in her hands. It hearted Jon some to know that Chae wasn't completely alone and that she had someone who could speak her language as well. In her excitement however, Chae kept making the wrong turns, being unfamiliar with the layout of the castle and Father had to call her back more than a few times. 

  
The room they came to was a servant's room that had been cleared out for the sick, and inside were two beds, neither of which were occupied at the time the three of them arrived. Instead, two people were on either side of the room, and Jon was immediately impressed.

  
The woman was a little shorter than Jon, but she carried herself in a way he had only seen Mormont women of Bear Island did. She was definitely a warrior, even if one didn't know what the padded material on her shoulders was for. Her hair was as black as Chae's, but cut short like a pixie's, a style Jon had never seen on a woman ever. She had narrow eyes and tanned skin, very different from Chae's and her expression was hard. Sweat was beading on her forehead, the only sign that she was still recovering from an illness. 

  
The second person was a man, clad in black and yellow armour that looked to be made out of a combination of wood, leather and iron. The armour was designed to allow flexible movement with how the shoulder plates were layered like plates on top of each other. The chestplate was almost completely black except for the hideous of a yellow demon with eyes and tusks protruding out of its mouth, and on the top were rows of sharp metal points shaped like pointed teeth. His forearm guards had larger points protruding from downwards, giving him a fearsome appearance. He was holding an elaborate helmet in the crook of his elbow that had a golden ornament on top shaped like horns. The man himself had long black hair tied into a topknot on the top of his head. His eyes were hard and narrow, like the woman's and his goatee was neatly trimmed around his mouth. 

  
Both the man and the woman looked to the doorway when the three newcomers entered, and the tensed up briefly before they saw Chae.

  
“Chae!” exclaimed the woman in relief. Chae ran over and hugged the woman, and while the man still seemed standoffish, the hard gaze in his eyes softened. 

  
Chae and the woman spoke to each other rapidly, reassuring each other. Or at least Jon assumed that was what they were discussing, he couldn't tell. The man moved to stand in front of him and Father then.

  
“Thank you, for saving Chaeyoung,” he said in a deep, baritone voice that had a thick accent. He bowed from the waist, and Jon and Father both were not sure what to do for a moment, but they decided to bow to the man as well, albeit rather awkwardly. Jon also noticed that the man called Chae Chaeyoung, which he guessed to be her full name. 

  
“I am Hasashi Tetsuo,” introduced the man, bowing again before gesturing to the woman, “and this is Chizuru Yuri.” 

  
Chizuru released Chae and stepped forward. “We come from Yi Ti to escape evil men, but we would have all perished if you had not rescued us from the storm,” she said in perfect Common Tongue with very little trace of an accent. 

  
“It was my son here, Jon who saw your boat crash and organised the rescue party,” said Father in a rare display of affection towards his baseborn son. Jon could feel his cheeks burning up, so he ducked his head to hide it.

  
Chae said something in Yi Tish, then handed Hasashi the two swords. Hasashi's eyes widened in surprise and he took the weapons before shoving them into his cloth belt. He then drew the longer sword, revealing the Valyrian steel blade and looked upon it with a treasured gaze. Father let out a low whistle of appreciation for the blade, recognising it instantly. Then Hasashi, smooth and quickly sheathed the sword and looked at Jon.

  
“Chaeyoung has said that you were the one who personally rescued both her and these swords. You have my thanks yet again Jon. My _daisho_ have been in my family for generations,” he said. Once again, he bowed to Jon, and Jon again found himself at a loss as to what to do. 

  
“If I may ask my lord and lady,” began Father cautiously, “but who are you?”

  
“Forgive our lack of manners,” said Chizuru quickly in a slightly shamed tone. “But we are _Jeonsa_, or the word you might use in your tongue is ‘warrior.’”

  
“We have served the Yi Ti Empire for as long as we can remember, guarding it from those who would seek to destroy our homes and people,” added Hasashi. 

“Chaeyoung is special, and bad men wanted to exploit her for their own personal gain,” said Chizuru. When Father opened his mouth to ask a question, she put a hand up. “Please, for the safety of both yourselves and the girl, we cannot reveal any more than what we have.” 

  
Father didn't look entirely pleased with the request, but he acquiesced and bowed his head slightly. 

  
“If you would like, you can come to my home in Winterfell to stay,” offered Father. Jon whipped his head around incredulously. The Jeonsa had just said that their lives were in peril, and yet Father had offered to shelter them regardless. Chizuru and Hasashi both looked at each other, unsure of how to answer. Meanwhile, Chae just looked between her two guardians with confusion on her face as she tried to keep up with the conversation. 

  
Chizuru and Hasashi huddled together and began to speak in hushed tones. Jon could tell it was a little heated, especially when Chae joined in. The girl looked to be putting up a fiery argument as she glared at the two adults before Hasashi sighed and turned around. 

  
“What are the defences of Winterfell like?” he asked.

  
“Winterfell is one of the most secure fortresses in all of the Seven Kingdoms and has never fallen to an open assault in all of its eight thousand years,” said Father confidently. 

  
Chizuru and Hasashi shared a long look before looking back at the Lord of Winterfell. “Chaeyoung has said she wishes to dwell amongst you for a time, and we trust in your assurances in her safety,” said Hasashi. “We accept your offer.”

  
Chizuru repeated what Hasashi had said in Yi Tish for Chae to understand, and the girl's eyes lit up happily. She said something in fast Yi Tish that had her two guardians smiling, and Chizuru looked at Father and Jon.

  
“Chaeyoung said that she is honoured to be your guests, and that we will try not to be burdens upon your household,” she translated. 

  
“My wife and other children will surely welcome you, as will the rest of my household,” assured Father. 

  
Jon nodded his affirmation on that and smiled slightly at the three foreigners. They would certainly stand out amongst the rest of Winterfell's inhabitants, but yet Jon doubted that Lady Stark would be so welcoming to foreigner running from a threat if she could barely stomach her husband's bastard living under the same roof as her.

  
Regardless, Jon was pleased that he would not be separated from Chae so soon, especially seeing as they had become fast friends in such a small amount of time. And he really did hope the three Yi Tish stayed in Winterfell for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeonsa is actually Korean for warrior. I was originally going to simply have them called samurai but thought that was a bit too on the nose, so I decided to change it, though the characters will be samurai in every sense except for the name. Also, Chizuru is based of the character Ayu from the video game 'For Honor,' though I'll be describing her armour as slightly differently. And Hasashi's appearance and armour is a combination of Seijuro from the same video game, except his armour is black and gold and his facial features are based on actor Hiroyuki Sanada. Here's the links to the references. I'm still not quite sure who I would reference for Chae's appearance at the moment, but adult Chae will almost be a carbon copy of Red Velvet's Irene. So I guess that means teenage Chae would be teenage Irene? I suppose so.
> 
> Hasashi's armour- https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/320881542185928578/  
Chizuru- https://forhonor.fandom.com/wiki/Ayu?file=AyuFace.png  
Hasashi's description- https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/405324035186941970/


	3. Leng's Champion

Lord Stark only stayed two more days in White Harbour, finalising his talks with the Manderlys before he and his party departed back to Winterfell. The return trip however, had the special commodity of having three foreigners along for the ride, as well as much of their spoils that had survived the shipwreck. The majority was given to the Manderlys as a thank-you gift for saving the three Yi Tish, the contents of which were highly rare and valuable in all of Westeros. 

  
The return trip took almost less time than the trip to White Harbour, as Lord Stark had wanted to arrive to his home as soon as possible. Jon was fine with that, as he too wanted nothing more than to be safe within the walls of Winterfell. Chae had been excited to see the oldest castle in the Seven Kingdoms from how Jon had described it (with Chizuru translatingfor him). 

  
The other two Yi Tish people were interesting, thought Jon. From their trip back to Winterfell alone he had noticed great differences between the two Jeonsa. Chizuru was an outgoing-yet serious woman who was polite and noble. She carried an enormous sword over her back that she called a _nodachi_, a weapon the vanguard of Yi Ti's imperial army were masters of. Her kind, known as the _Totoisha_, or nobles, supposedly exemplified all that a Yi Tish warrior strived to be. Strong, honourable, compassionate yet ruthless in battle. Chizuru certainly exemplified these traits with every breath she took. 

  
Hasashi, on the other hand, rarely smiled, always looked down upon others and had a serious, hard attitude about everything. He reminded Jon of a more grumpy and prideful Lord Stark a little, if he was being honest with himself. He spoke curtly to everyone, like he was impatient with whoever he was speaking with, except when it came to Chae. The man was, according to Chizuru, an _Orochi_, a warrior-assassin who excelled in fast, agile fighting and often was used to infiltrate enemy cities and camps for assassinations, masters of the _katana_.

  
Despite Hasashi's cold demeanour, Jon found himself fascinated by the man. He himself preferred to fight quickly and smartly in order to best his opponents, and wanted the Orochi to teach him a few things, but he doubted Hasashi would agree to anything of the sort. He didn't reveal much about himself, and despite his gratitude towards Jon for saving their lives and his swords, he often wore a deep frown of disapproval whenever the bastard was with Chae. 

  
Nearly two weeks after leaving White Harbour, the grey stone walls and towers of Winterfell loomed above them. Chae had a wide-eyed look of wonder on her face that pleased Jon at the sight of the ancient fortress, though Hasashi look unimpressed. Chizuru however let out a low gasp at the sight.

  
“This castle is as old as the collapse of the Great Empire of the Dawn,” she said in awe. 

  
“We have many cities in Yi Ti older than this,” grunted Hasashi.

  
“But how many of them are still standing?” retorted Chizuru.

  
Hasashi had nothing to say in response to that, but he reined his horse in so that he was now riding behind Chae, Chizuru and Jon.

  
“Don't mind Hasashi,” said Chizuru to Jon. “He's always been like this, even back home.”

  
“Then he will certainly fit in amongst the hardened lords of the North,” replied Jon. 

  
Chizuru chuckled softly at that, but said no more. The rest of the journey passed in silence until the retinue rode through the southern gates of Winterfell and into the main courtyard, where the entire household of House Stark was waiting for them. Once Father disembarked from his horse, the entire courtyard dropped to one knee, symbolising their fealty to the Warden of the North. Father bid them all to rise and he embraced his wife, Lady Catelyn before moving on to his four other children. Sansa, Arya, little Bran and baby Rickon all excitedly hugged their father before moving on to do the same to Robb and Jon, though Sansa didn't embrace Jon, as she usually kept her distance from him in order to please her mother. 

  
It was then, however, that the others noticed the three YiTish people. Whispers began to circulate through the courtyard at their strange appearance and dressing, and more than a few fingers were pointed towards Chizuru and her blue and white armour, with her nodachi slung across her back. The two warriors pointedly ignored the servants and guards who shuffled on their feet nervously, and Jon was surprised to see that Chae had adopted a mask of indifference on her face, something he’d only seen noble ladies do. He once again wondered who she was that earned her two bodyguards. Was she someone of great import like a noble in Yi Ti? 

  
“Catelyn, my children, these are my friends,” introduced Father to his family. “Lord Hasashi and Ladies Chizuru and Chaeyoung.”

  
The three YiTish people all bowed low to the Starks, who looked mildly surprised and awkwardly copied the gesture. Arya, however was too busy staring up at Chizuru like she was Queen Nymeria come again to bow. Jon supposed that wasn't surprising in all fairness. 

  
“Thank you for inviting us into your home, my Lady,” said Hasashi to Lady Stark, speaking on the others' behalf. “We promise to serve your family to the best of our abilities but...” he glanced over to Chae for a moment before continuing, “we are first and foremost sworn to Lady Chaeyoung.”

  
Lady Stark did not seem to like the answer, but she pursed her lips and curtsied slightly to the three newcomers before turning back to her husband.

  
“You must all be tired. Come, we have prepared a warm meal for all of you,” she said. She picked up Rickon who was clinging to her skirts and led Sansa and Bran back into the castle. Meanwhile, Father turned to Hasashi.

  
“I shall have servants prepare some rooms for the three of you. Winterfell is now your home as long as I am lord,” he said. He offered them a small bow before turning to Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel. “See that everything is put in order.”

  
“Yes, my lord,” said Ser Rodrik. 

  
In the meantime, Arya had walked right up to Chizuru, her grey eyes wide as saucers. Chizuru looked back down at her with a small amount of amusement on her features.

  
“Are you a knight?” she asked.

  
“I am a Totoisha, child,” answered Chizuru. “I suppose I am my people's idea of your Westerosi knights.”

  
“I'm not a child,” huffed Arya angrily.

  
“Arya,” said Jon in a warning tone, but Chizuru brushed him off. 

  
“It is alright. This little one reminds me of myself at this age,” she said. Chizuru then crouched down so that she was facing Arya at eye level. “Do you wish to be a warrior like me some day?”

  
Arya eagerly nodded her head, but then frowned. “I do, but Mother says women are not supposed to fight. We're supposed to be polite and wear dresses and give our husbands lots of children,” she said with a pout.

  
“Many in Yi Ti believe that as well,” said Chizuru. “However, none oppose a woman if she decides she would rather wield a blade than bear children.”

  
“Really?” said Arya incredulously.

  
Chizuru nodded in confirmation. “Perhaps, if your mother is willing, I could teach you a few things. After all, the world is a dangerous place for a woman,” she offered.

  
Arya's eyes lit up, and she nodded her head excitedly before dashing away back into the castle without so much as a thank you to Chizuru.

  
“I wouldn't have encouraged her if I were you. Arya's always been a she-wolf,” said Jon as he came to stand by Chizuru. “Once she gets something into her head, nothing can dissuade her from it.”

  
“Then I truly was right in my assessment of her,” said Chizuru.

  
Jon smiled, then said, “Come, I'm sure the cooks have prepared a wonderful feast for us to partake in.” Then he led the three YiTish into the castle.

* * *

“Where did you find those people?” asked Catelyn.

  
Night had fallen, and it was late. Most of the castle had already retired to bed, and Ned and Catelyn were also preparing for bed in their shared room. The day had gone well: the YiTish had settled in to their new home well thanks to Jon, and Ned's transition back into Lord of Winterfell had gone off smoothly. He was already mostly reacquainted with the castle's reports thanks to his wife and Maester Luwin, yet tomorrow would be busy with the overseeing of other responsibilities. 

  
“A storm had passed through White Harbour during our first night there, and Chaeyoung, Chizuru and Hasashi were aboard a ship passing by the bay when it hit,” answered Ned. “Their ship was wrecked on the shore, and were it not for Jon's keen eyesight, none would have seen it and they would have all perished. Jon was the one who organised the rescue party as well.”

  
Catelyn had nothing to say to that, though her expression turned cold, which slightly annoyed Ned. Despite her bias against the boy, surely even she could admit Jon had done well. 

  
“And why were they in the North in the first place?” asked Catelyn.

  
Ned hesitated briefly as he considered lying to his wife. He knew that Catelyn would get upset if he told her the truth, and might even possibly try to convince him to send them away entirely. Ned never liked to lie in the first place, and even less so to Catelyn. The only other time he had ever lied to her, it had, and still was causing a strain on their marriage. But it was necessary to protect Jon from the wrath of men like Robert Baratheon. 

  
“They were running from something,” Ned decided to say. “By the look of how we found them, they might have been refugees.”

  
Catelyn turned to face him. “Refugees? What could they possibly be running from?” she asked.

  
“I don't know,” said Ned. He had his suspicions, most of which revolved around the girl Chaeyoung, but for now he was going to keep them to himself.

  
Catelyn frowned, as if she knew Ned was keeping things from her, and she let out a short breath before saying, “I do not trust them, so they'd best stay away from my children, especially my daughters.”

  
Ned sighed, but didn't argue with her. It would not do to go to bed on bad terms with his spouse, so he decided to put the topic off to a later date as he climbed into bed with Catelyn.

* * *

It had been a few days since their return to Winterfell, and in that time Jon already felt like he couldn't remember a time without the YiTish trio amongst them. The three of them adjusted so well into Winterfell's busy lifestyle that it had surprised everybody. 

  
Chae had started to attend some of the lessons Sansa and Arya usually went to (with Chizuru shadowing her constantly), though Chae didn’t seem to enjoy it similarly to Arya. Sansa had tried to befriend the older girl, but Jon's sister was impatient and apparently had quickly given up when it proved to be too difficult to communicate effectively. Arya didn't really pay attention to Chae much either, being to busy following Chizuru around everywhere and trying to glean information about life as a warrior woman. 

  
Chae didn't seem to mind not having many friends of her own sex that much, and she was still very new to the North so she had plenty of time to build those bridges with them. Jon thought that once Chae got a good enough grasp on her knowledge and understanding of the Common Tongue, it would be easier for her to make friends. 

  
Chizuru spent most of her time guarding Chae everywhere she went, or spending time getting to know all the servants, guards and Starks. She was, admittedly, a rather attractive woman, even with her short hair and thin, silvery scars that marked the edge of her jaw and eye. Theon had tried to make a pass at Chizuru on their second day in Winterfell, and what had happened was a dream come true for Jon. Theon had tried to grab Chizuru's backside, but the Totoisha woman had grabbed Theon's hand firmly and twisted it behind his back hard, making the Greyjoy squeal like a pig and threatened to geld him if he tried anything ever again.

  
Needless to say, Theon kept his distance from both YiTish women. 

  
Jon wasn't entirely sure as to what Hasashi did with his time. He often traded off with Chizuru in guarding Chae, but when he wasn't he was walking through the halls of the castle and along the wall's battlements. He looked to be assessing the castle's defences and getting to know the layout of the castle, but Jon couldn't be too sure. Hasashi kept mostly to himself, speaking only when spoken to or outright ignoring anyone who tried to engage in conversation with him. His cold gaze was enough to deter most people away from him, with the exception of the recklessly brave Arya and Bran, as well as Lord Stark. 

  
Almost immediately upon arriving to Winterfell, Hasashi had requested, or rather, demanded, an unused block of wood used to create wooden swords from Ser Rodrik while the knight had been training some recruits. The master-at-arms had given the Orochi a piece, and without so much as a thank you, Hasashi had disappeared. At times Jon had seen him with that piece of wood, and looked to be carving something.

  
On the fifth day, Ser Rodrik had been running a training session with some of the older men while Jon, Robb and Theon had been watching. In a few minutes, it would be their turn to enter the ring, which Jon was excited for because he hadn't trained in weeks. Chae had also come to watch, along with Chizuru, and the younger girl was standing next to Jon as had become their habit.

  
However, Hasashi had marched to the training ring, wearing what Jon thought was a loose dress, until he realised that it was actually a two-piece robe that allowed lots of free movement. In his right hand held in a reverse grip was the piece of wood he had claimed when he arrived, now shaped into a wooden replica of his katana sword. Well, that answered the question of what he was doing with it. His hair was also tied into a topknot, which he seemed to always have styled in that way as well.

  
“What's he wearing?” asked Jon.

  
“A training hakama,” answered Chizuru. 

  
A few of the men, Robb and Theon included laughed at Hasashi's appearance, though the YiTish man remained emotionless as he approached Ser Rodrik.

  
“I would like to train against a few of your men,” he said in a calm voice. 

  
“A few as in, more than one, my lord?” asked Ser Rodrik. 

  
When Hasashi nodded in confirmation, Ser Rodrik looked around in disbelief, but he acquiesced. He directed three of the men training to remain in the yard while ordering the rest out, and Hasashi stepped into the ring. There were a few catcalls and whistles, as well as encouraging shouts from some of the spectators to kick the YiTish man's arse.

  
“Let's see how this foreigner does against real soldiers,” said Theon in a quiet yet excited tone. Robb voiced his agreement, but Jon remained silent. 

  
“Yes, we shall see,” said Chizuru. Jon looked to see that the older woman had a neutral expression on her face, but her dark eyes were gleaming with confidence.

  
There was something about Hasashi that made him seem more than meets the eye, but Jon had a feeling they were about to find out what it was.

  
The three men circled Hasashi, wooden swords at the ready, while Hasashi remained still with his own weapon held to the side. The Stark men looked confident, but they were also dealing with an unknown entity so they held back and tried to figure out how to best approach him. Hasashi's right foot slid through the dirt, angling the man to the side slightly, and while he otherwise remained still as a statue after that, Jon could see that his eyes were watching every movement by the Stark soldiers very carefully. 

  
Suddenly, the man behind Hasashi lunged forward, sword raised over his head and swung downwards. If Jon had blinked, he would have missed Hasashi's response, because the man twisted and slammed the pommel of his wooden sword straight into the other man's sternum. The Stark man let out a loud grunt as the wind was knocked out of him, then Hasashi kicked him in the face, sending him to the dirt. 

  
There was a startled pause across the whole yard, before the other two men attacked at the same time. Hasashi met them easily, using his wooden sword to parry their attacks almost lazily. He was swift as a viper, and in less than ten seconds Hasashi had kicked one man over, then with his sword smacked the remaining combatant in the side of the head hard, knocking him to the ground. 

  
Silence met Hasashi's victory against the now embarrassed Stark men all across the training yard. Not a single hair on Hasashi's head was out of place, and he straightened his hakama before bowing to his injured opponents.

  
“More men please,” he said to Ser Rodrik. 

  
The master-at-arms blinked stupidly a few times before calling six men into the yard. All six men had angry looks on their faces, as if they were the ones who had been humiliated and not the three who were currently nursing their injuries and wounded pride outside of the ring. But, despite having their anger fuelling them, all six were just as quickly and brutally defeated them. 

  
Soon, it was eight against one, and Jon was pretty sure he got to finally see Hasashi really fight. He was amazing, and made fighting with a sword seem almost like a graceful dance with the way he glided through his opponents, striking them down with his wooden sword. Hasashi finished off the last man by striking him hard across the back with swift precision when he tried to get up, and the man collapsed into the mud and didn't get up.

  
The entire yard was so silent the activities happening on the other side of the castle could be heard. Robb and Theon had fallen silent in their teasing, their mouths agape in shock. Chizuru had a smug grin on her face, while Chae looked like she had seen this a hundred times before but was no less impressed. Jon felt as shocked as Robb and Theon looked, but he had managed to keep his mouth shut to spare his dignity.

  
As he did before, Hasashi bowed to his fallen combatants, then walked out of the training yard towards where Jon and the others had been watching.

  
“If these are Winterfell's finest men, then I fear for the safety of Chaeyoung,” he spat out in contempt before storming past them back into the castle. 

  
Chizuru sighed and uncrossed her arms from her chest. “He didn't mean that,” she began to say before pausing, then added, “Actually, he did. But your men were going up against Leng's Champion, so I wasn't too surprised.”

  
“What is Leng's Champion?” asked Jon curiously.

  
“The greatest warrior the Golden Empire of Yi Ti has ever seen,” answered Chizuru, “there has not been a warrior of his calibre in over a thousand years.” 

  
Theon scoffed. “I bet Ser Arthur Dayne could have taken him,” he said. 

  
“Arthur Dayne? I know this name,” said Chizuru. “He was killed in single combat, was he not?”

  
Theon spluttered slightly, then stormed off in a huff. Meanwhile, Robb looked at Chizuru.

  
“Arthur Dayne was killed by my father at the end of Robert's Rebellion at the Tower of Joy in Dawn,” he explained. “Father doesn't like to talk about it, so please do not ask him how he killed the Sword of the Morning.” 

  
With that, Robb went off to follow Theon, leaving Jon with the two YiTish women. Chizuru looked at Jon in confusion.

  
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  
“Ser Arthur Dayne was considered the deadliest warrior in the Seven Kingdom's history,” said Jon. “He was one of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen's Kingsguard which was full of notable warriors of a similar infamy to him. The day he fell, he was guarding my aunt Lyanna who had been kidnapped and raped by the Crown Prince Rhaegar along with two other Kingsguard. My father went to rescue her along with seven other men. Only my father and one of his bannermen Lord Howland Reed survived.” 

  
“I see,” said Chizuru. “And your aunt? Where is she now?”

  
“She died of a fever immediately after Father slew Ser Arthur,” said Jon.

  
“Oh, I'm sorry,” said Chizuru contritely. Jon shrugged. He had never met his aunt and thus had never really established much of a connection with her, though her bones were buried in the crypt underneath Winterfell. 

  
“I must see your blacksmith and see if he can have my sword sharpened,” continued Chizuru thoughtfully. Then she looked between Jon and Chae. “Can I trust you to watch over Chaeyoung Snow?”

  
“You have my word,” promised Jon. Chizuru nodded, then walked away towards the forge. Now it was just Jon and Chae. Without Chizuru or Hasashi there to translate, it would be more difficult to be able to speak to each other, but Jon wanted to make it work. He had no duties to perform for the rest of the day, seeing as Robb and Theon had wandered off and leaving him with no one to train with, so he thought of something he and Chae could do together. Then an idea struck him. 

  
“Come with me,” he said and grabbed Chae by the hand without thinking before leading her away from the training yard. Chae followed along eagerly, and Jon led her to the entrance of the Godswood. 

  
It was quiet and serene inside the Godswood, and a feeling of peace washed over Jon, calming his heart and mind as a gentle breeze blew past. At the centre of the Godswood was the weirwood tree and pool, and Chae gave a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the sad face carved into the wood, which was crying tears of blood-red sap.

  
“The descendants of the First Men worship the Old Gods,” said Jon. When Chae looked at him in confusion, Jon imitated praying by folding his arms and bowing his head, then pointed up to the sky. Chae's eyes lit up in understanding, and she nodded her head. 

  
“Your god?” she clarified. Jon nodded, then knelt down upon the ground in front of the heart tree. Chae dropped down next to him, a searching look in her eyes. 

  
“I feel safe, happy here,” continued Jon. “I do not truly belong anywhere, even with my family as I am a bastard. But here, I feel like the Old Gods welcome me.” 

  
Chae looked like she was trying hard to understand and her brows knitted together, and Jon chuckled slightly.

  
“Peace,” he said as he put a hand over his heart, then placed his other hand over Chae's heart too. She nodded, seeming to get the picture finally as she placed each of her hands over Jon's, covering both their hearts now with their hands.

  
“Peace,” echoed Chae. Her dark brown eyes were alight with understanding, reminding Jon that she was far more intelligent than he probably was. Jon smiled at her, which she returned, revealing dazzling white, pearly teeth as clean as freshly-fallen snow. Jon removed his hand and touched the bone-white wood of the tree.

  
The moment his skin touched the wood, Jon’s vision changed to a strange scene. A black, three-headed dragon with red wings battling a golden stag in the middle of a river. The stag gored the dragon in the chest with its antlers, and instead of blood gushing out, large rubies fell like stones into the rushing waters. As the dragon fell to its death, the middle head whispered a name.

  
“_Lyanna_,” it said before drowning.

  
Then the vision changed. A grey wolf and a lizard-lion cutting down a white star in the middle of a desert, a smaller, female wolf lying in a bed of winter roses as it bled out, staining the pale blue petals red. The grey wolf was mourning over its dying sister as a small pup with white fur and blood-red eyes nudged the dead wolf. 

  
Again, the scene changed to show a different grey wolf and a golden lion fighting across vast lands, burning and killing everything in their path. A fire demon consuming the heart of a red stag on a volcanic island while snakes slithered through a red keep, biting the ankles of the unwary and weak while thorned roses held others in place while a lion dressed in the furs of a dead stag snuck up on them from behind, a malicious grin on its face. In the north, an ice demon awakening in a land where winter never ended, while across a sea, a different dragon raised up an army. 

  
Even further away, a beautiful maiden riding atop a black lion travelled north-west to guide and protect the white wolf, followed by dark, serpent-like shadows. The white wolf had grown into a mighty beast as it prepared to join in the battle between the grey wolf and the golden lion as an entity more powerful and terrible than any monster south of the Wall. All the while, the ice demon grew in strength until it too pounced upon the warring animals when they were least prepared, bringing with it cold and darkness. 

  
Jon pulled away from the heart tree with a yell. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, despite the cold and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. What in Seven Hells had he just seen? Was he going mad? Or was it something else, like A vision from the Old Gods? What were all the animals in the visions? Were they actually animals, or representations of something else? His biggest worry was the ice demon that was gathering strength in the far north, as well as the white wolf that swept down on its enemies.

  
A tentative hand on Jon's shoulders pulled him out of his strange thoughts. He turned his head to the side to see Chae looking at him with a mixture of worry an fear on her face. He noticed that her hand on his shoulder was shaking slightly as well, and he wondered just what had happened while he'd been having his visions to scare the girl so much. 

  
“I-I'm sorry,” stammered out Jon as he lowered his head in shame. “I don't know what-“ 

  
He stopped speaking when Chae squeezed his shoulder. He looked back up, and while the fear was still evident on Chae's face, there was understanding as well. She raised a single finger to her lips, silently promising she wouldn't tell anyone what had just happened. Jon felt more than a little surprised. He had been worried that she would run away and tell the others about this, which would only add to the amount of pressure and ridicule he received in his life, but Chae had seemed to read his mind and promised to keep quiet to protect him. 

  
In the back of his mind Jon thought that maybe she was saving her own skin over himself, but he quickly dismissed that notion. In the few weeks that he had known Chae, not once did she come across as the sort of person who would stab someone in the back. Trusting others was a rare thing for Jon, and yet he found himself trusting the girl next to him with his life. 

  
Just what kind of person was Chae to have grown so close to Jon so quickly? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters will mostly be fillers to establish Chaeand the Jeonsa's presence in Winterfell and to better build relationships, with a few key plot points hereand there as well. After that, there will be a major time jump where we will finally get into the canon timeline.


	4. The Way of the Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a couple of days to upload, we had a storm come through that's taken out our wifi, so I'm having to use my phone's hot spot to upload this. Also it's been a very rough few days, one of my very good friends who was actually my high school Japanese teacher passed away yesterday, so it's been very difficult for me to be motivated to do a whole lot. Nevertheless, I'm dedicating this chapter to him, and my thoughts and prayers are with his family at this time.

The vision Jon had seen when he touched the heart tree had left him tired and paranoid. What had he seen? Was it a premonition of things to come? The questions had kept him up all night, and if he wasn't thinking about it, the dream of the wolf, the dragon and the lion fighting off the ice demon from the maiden haunted him in his sleep. What was the purpose of the animals that protected the maiden, and why did the dream constantly repeat itself every night? Jon was most haunted by the black lion with the pale white eyes, as it seemed to stare into his very soul like it knew he was watching it.

  
True to her word, Chae had told nobody about what had happened in the Godswood. She never even mentioned to Jon once in the following days, and he was certainly grateful to her for it more than he could express. The strange incident only served to bring the two of them closer as friends, and they began spending as much time together as was considered appropriate. Jon had also taken it upon himself to teach Chae how to speak Common Tongue every day, and she in turn would teach him YiTish, with help from Chizuru of course. It was only early days and thee two languages were vastly different from each other, but Jon was confident that with time and constant practice, they would both finally be able to speak to each other.

  
However, that brought more ridicule upon Jon's shoulders. Because he was spending time with Chae, getting to know her and her guardians (or at least Chizuru) by showing them around the castle and introducing them to the Northern culture, it left less time for him to be with Robb, Arya and the others. Arya wasn't so upset by it, as she was too busy either following Chizuru around or hounding her mother to let the Jeonsa teach her how to fight. Robb, on the other hand was taking it a little more personally and was distant to Jon on the occasions they did hang out together. Theon was delighting in it though, both with having Robb to himself more and teasing Jon about his ‘foreign lover,’ as he described Chae. 

  
And Lady Stark spent half of her time avoiding the YiTish people, looking for any opportunity to not be in the same room as them, and if she absolutely had to, she made it a point to ignore them completely. Not only that however, but Lady Stark's glares at Jon were even more fierce than usual. Jon reckoned that Lady Stark probably believed that he had somehow brought the three YiTish people from their homeland to help him usurp the lordship of Winterfell from Father and Robb, or some other ridiculous theory about bastards and their sinful natures.   
Regardless, Robb's distant attitude, Lady Stark's increasing hostility towards him, combined with the constant visions and nightmares were putting too much pressure on Jon, and he needed to find a way to release it all before he snapped. 

  
Jon found it when training started back up again a couple of days after the incident with Hasashi. Ser Rodrik had not run a training session since Hasashi had humiliated the Stark men, thus by extension embarrassing the Winterfell master-at-arms. However, Ser Rodrik needed to perform his duty and had started it again. Jon had gone to as many lessons as possible and tried to focus on nothing but learning the techniques and movements as he sparred against the Winterfell guards and other boys his age. He had yet to spar against Robb or Theon though since coming home, as Ser Rodrik felt that he knew their moves and fighting style too well until the old knight decided to pair them up together again, nearly a month after returning from White Harbour.

  
Jon, determined to release his pent-up stress and frustration was the first to reach the training yard on a crisp, cool morning. Even though it was early, servants were already bustling around the yards and stables as they prepared the castle for the day's activities, scurrying like ants every which way. Ser Rodrik was already out and, to Jon's surprise, so was Hasashi, who was in his hakama again, leaning against a nearby wooden post with his wooden sword and that scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto his face. Ser Rodrik and the other servants were giving the Orochi a wide berth, though Hasashi didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he looked like he preferred it that way. 

  
“Good morning Jon,” said Ser Rodrik in a cheery voice, though his eyes darted to glance at Hasashi uneasily. Jon couldn't blame the knight. That day, Hasashi had proved he could cut down just about every soldier in Winterfell if he wanted to, all with just a wooden sword too.

  
“Good morning Ser,” Jon replied back as he grabbed one of the wooden swords from the waiting rack. He gave it a few twirls in his right hand, feeling the familiar weight of the wood in his grip like an old friend. 

  
“Where are Robb and Theon?” asked Ser Rodrik. Jon shrugged in response, as he didn't know where they were. But he didn't have to, because at that moment, the two missing boys came out into the yard, looking tired but eager to train. They both faltered in their steps slightly when they caught sight of Hasashi watching them, but continued on their way until they reached Jon and Ser Rodrik.

  
“What is _he_ doing here?” hissed Robb quietly as he took the wooden sword offered by Jon.

  
“I'm not sure, but I've noticed that he spends much of his time watching people,” answered Jon.

  
“Bet you noticed that Snow,” scoffed Theon. “What else have you noticed about the foreigners?”

  
Jon ignored the Greyjoy and went to stand at the side of the training ring, his back to Hasashi. Now was not the time to lose his temper to a kraken, even if the fool deserved to have his ears boxed. 

  
“Robb and Theon will begin,” announced Ser Rodrik. The two boys stepped into the ring eagerly, giving each other teasing grins as they circled each other. Then Ser Rodrik declared the spar to begin. 

  
Theon, ever impatient was quick to thrust his sword forward towards Robb's belly. However, the younger boy parried the attack easily and retaliated with a strike of his own, and the fight was well and truly on its way until Robb eventually won by disarming Theon and putting the tip of his sword to the Greyjoy heir's throat. They both grinned and laughed before Ser Rodrik told them it was now Robb against Jon.

  
Jon stepped into the ring, all thoughts of his visions, strained relationships and the Jeonsa behind him forgotten and noted that Robb didn't smile at him as they usually did. Instead, his face was mostly blank, except for the slight tightening of his brow. Jon wasn't sure what he had done to deserve his older brother’s ire, but he wasn't going to let that get to his head. This was a fight, not a discussion on hurt feelings.

  
“Begin,” said Ser Rodrik. 

  
The two boys circled each other slowly around the edge of the ring, waiting for the other to drop their guard. Robb threw a few feints, which Jon ignored, and after almost a minute of toying with each other, Robb decided to force an opening if he couldn't find one.

  
In the yard, the differences between the two brothers were at their most obvious. Robb was bigger and stronger than Jon, and what he lacked in skill in battle he more than made up for in ferocity. Robb often would try to use his superior strength to overpower Jon in order to end the match quickly, which he was trying to do at this moment. Jon however, preferred to fight with speed and skill on his side. Of himself, Robb and Theon, Jon was the best swordsman and these days he won almost twice as many sparring matches as he lost, though he tried to holdback a little or Lady Stark would convince her husband to ban him from learning how to fight if she saw him beat her eldest son one too many times.

  
The fight between Jon and his brother lasted longer than when Robb fought Theon as they spun around and tried to hit each other. Each attack by the redhead was easily blocked or parried by Jon, though Robb was doing well in holding his own as well. However, Jon saw an opening when Robb raised his sword a little too high over his head when he feinted. Jon twisted around, using his sword to glance Robb's blow away from him just enough. Robb’s momentum pushed him too far forward and he stumbled slightly, but before he could right himself, Jon smacked him in the sword hand and followed up with another quick strike, this time to the gut. 

  
Robb doubled over, but before he could recover, Jon had his sword under his chin. 

  
“I yield,” said Robb through gasping breaths. Jon lowered his weapon and picked up Robb's sword before handing it back to his brother. Robb accepted the weapon back and offered Jon a small smile, a win in Jon's eyes, before moving to the side of the ring. 

  
“Robb, your feet were too far spread which is why you fell when you overreached,” said Ser Rodrik in a firm tone.

  
“Sorry Ser,” said Robb sheepishly as his face burned red. Ser Rodrik let out a small tsk of annoyance before ordering Theon into the ring with Jon. 

  
Theon stepped in with a cocky grin on his face, which made Jon assume that the other boy was up to something. Which proved to be true, because when Ser Rodrik signalled the match to begin, Theon didn't attack right away.

  
“So, finally got yourself a woman, eh Snow?” said Theon with that mocking grin still on his face. Jon felt his jaw tighten and his temper rise slightly, but he refused to allow himself to be baited. While Theon was decent enough with a sword, he almost always lost to Jon ever since the younger boy turned twelve. However, Theon's greatest strength lay in his words. He always knew what to say to get his opponent fired up enough to make a mistake, and he would capitalise on that. Theon was a master at psychological warfare, and though it occasionally worked on Jon, he’d been insulted enough times in his life to develop a tougher skin for it.

  
Jon decided to attack first this time by swinging his sword towards Theon's head. Theon managed to block it, though it made him stumble slightly.

  
“Watch your footing Greyjoy! Or are you too kraken to stand on solid ground?” barked out Ser Rodrik. 

  
Theon quickly righted himself before Jon could attack again, and parried the next few strikes.

  
“Have you had your way with her yet?” continued Theon, “What am I saying, you're still a green boy, aren't you? I bet you don't even know where to stick it.”

  
“Shut up,” snapped Jon lowly. His attacks became swifter and harder, forcing Theon back, but that taunting smile never left his face.

  
“Never would have taken Jon Snow to have a thing for foreigners. I always thought your heart was as frozen as the Wall,” he mocked. Then he stepped away from Jon and straightened up, relaxing his posture as a thoughtful expression crossed his features. “Then again, I can't blame you. The foreign girl is a pretty little thing, isn't she?”

  
“I said, shut up!” snarled Jon. Maybe he had developed a resistance to insults about himself, but when those insults were thrown at people he cared about? He still had a long way to go there.

  
“Perhaps when you've had your merry little way with her, maybe I will have a turn to see what YiTish girls are like,” said Theon.

  
Jon saw red then. He let out a roar of anger and charged towards Theon with his sword raised. Theon, in his arrogance had let down his guard and wasn't able to bring his sword up in time to protect himself. Jon's sword smacked right into the side of Greyjoy's head, and he stumbled to the side with a dazed look on his face. Jon didn't let that stop him as his following attacks continued to be fuelled by his rage. He rammed the pommel of his sword into Theon's gut, knocking the wind out of him and doubling him over, then followed up by kicking his legs out so that he fell onto his stomach. When Theon tried to get back up, Jon took a page out of Hasashi's notebook by bringing his sword down onto Theon's back with a resounding crack! Theon collapsed to the ground, and Jon was about to finish him off, when suddenly a strong hand gripped his wrist. 

  
Jon broke out of his fiery haze to see that it was Hasashi who had stopped him, a hard glare on his face. Jon instantly felt his rage die down, though he was still angry at Theon, who was slowly trying to get up. The Ironborn’s face was already swelling up and turning purple from where he’d been struck, and he was clutching his stomach too. Jon felt a grim sense of satisfaction upon seeing that, knowing that he had beaten the older boy well enough that he wouldn’t be taunted for at least another few months. 

  
“Boy, you are in a whole lot of trouble,” Ser Rodrik began to say.

  
“I think, that I would like to be the one to punish Jon Snow for his misconduct in the yard today,” cut in Hasashi. His steel gaze never once flickered away from Jon's face as he spoke.

  
Ser Rodrik looked taken aback from the request, but his face turned red with annoyance. 

  
“He is my student and thus it is my right to dish out the punishments here!” he spluttered indignantly.

  
“Of course, good ser. But I believe I have the perfect thing for the boy,” answered Hasashi easily. “Come Snow.”

  
Hasashi's voice brokered no room for argument, so Jon lamely followed the YiTish man out of the yard. He could feel the gazes of Robb and Ser Rodrik burning into the back of his head, but he wasn't allowed time to think about it because he realised that they were heading to the Godswood. Only then did Jon begin to feel a slight bit of remorse at hurting Theon. Sure, the Ironborn was a pain in his ass, and he did say some rude things about Chae, but Jon should never have let himself be baited. He could already imagine the disappointed look on Father's face when he finds out.

  
Once they were near the heart tree, Hasashi stopped walking and looked up at the ancient tree's branches. Jon looked at the weirwood tree uneasily. Before, the Godswood was a sanctuary of peace for him, but ever since he had the vision, now the Godswood made him feel restless, like he was no longer welcomed by the very gods he worshipped.

  
“I have seen many things in my lifetime, but I have never seen a tree like this,” commented Hasashi. “Wood like bone and leaves of blood. A rare sight indeed.

  
“The people of the North such as yourself worship these trees, do you not?” he asked.

  
“Not the trees themselves,” answered Jon. “We believe that the weirwood trees are the eyes and ears of the Old Gods that connect our world to theirs, and it is under them we perform sacred vows such as marriage and oaths of fealty.” 

  
“I asked Lord Stark about the weirwood tree last night. He said that a man could not lie wjile the face of the gods looked down upon you,” said Hasashi.

  
Jon felt more than little confused at the topic of conversation, as he thought he was supposed to be receiving a penalty for his actions in the training yard. Then Hasashi looked at him.

  
“Why did you allow yourself to be baited by that boy?” he asked.

  
Jon was slightly thrown off by the sudden change in topic, but answered, “He was insulting Chae. I couldn't let him attack her honour like that.”

  
Hasashi nodded his head thoughtfully. “Did it occur to you that he was only saying it to get a reaction out of you?”

  
“At the start, I knew it. But when he started to say bad things about Chae, I couldn't let it stand,” said Jon. 

  
“And so you humiliated him in front of your teacher and brother,” said Hasashi. 

  
“Yes,” replied Jon a little hesitantly. 

  
Hasashi let snorted slightly and looked away from Jon, back up to the blood-red leaves hanging over them.

  
“In Yi Ti, we have a tree that we hold sacred,” he said, and Jon was once again thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “It is called the sakura, or cherry blossom tree. It looks very different from your heart tree however. It’s wood is dark and the leaves are green in the summer, but that is not what makes it special. 

  
“In the early months of spring, the sakura will bloom beautiful flowers of the brightest pink. I have seen much war and death in my time, but whenever I see the sakura blossoms, I remember that life is meaningful, even if I am sometimes forced to take it.”

  
“I'm sure you miss the sight of them now,” said Jon. Though he was still confused about where his conversation was going, he could feel and appreciation the older man's words, like they were some kind of metaphor that he should apply to his own life. Somehow.

  
“I have not see the sakura blossoms in many years, as this is the longest summer anyone has seen in centuries,” said Hasashi with a sad smile. One of the only smiles Jon had actually ever seen from the man since he'd met him. “And with a long summer comes a long winter, and I fear I shall never see them again in my lifetime.”

  
Then his smile faded and he looked at Jon with a hard look. “I have been watching you in the training yard Jon Snow,” he said. “And while I am dismayed at the quality of the men of this castle's skills in swordsmanship, you are the only one who shows any actual promise as a warrior.”

  
“Um... thank you?” said Jon. He wasn't actually sure if Hasashi's words were a compliment or not. 

  
“Ser Rodrik expects me to punish you, and I shall... in my own way,” continued Hasashi. “And so, from here on out you shall be my student. I will teach you how to be Jeonsa.”

  
Jon's eyes widened and he felt his heart rise up to his throat. Hasashi wanted to teach him how to fight like a Jeonsa? He couldn't see how that was a punishment at all! 

  
Hasashi must have caught the relief on Jon's face, because he snapped, “Trust me boy, you'll be wishing Ser Rodrik had been the one to discipline you by the time I'm finished!”

  
Jon quickly straightened up and forced his expression to be blank. Hasashi walked past him, then paused as he looked thoughtful.

  
“We will train here, in the Godswood and away from prying mortal eyes,” he said more to himself than Jon. “Under the eyes of your gods, perhaps they will favour the both of us.”

  
Jon didn't know what that meant, but he kept silent anyway.

  
“We will begin tomorrow. I will let Ser Rodrik know that you will not be able to participate in his lessons for the foreseeable future,” continued Hasashi. “And you won't be wearing that ridiculous training gear either.”

  
“What am I supposed to wear then?” asked Jon. 

  
“A hakama of course,” answered Hasashi as if the answer were obvious and Jon was a fool. Jon bristled at having to wear something that looked like a dress, as well as the slight against Northern fashion. 

  
“Well, what say you boy? Will you accept my offer?” asked Hasashi.

Jon hesitated for a moment. From what he had seen, the Jeonsa's fighting style was very different from what he had been taught for years, so it would take a long time to change his own style to adapt. But learning from a man who was, by Chizuru's tales and what Jon had seen, the YiTish equivalent of Ser Arthur Dayne was not an opportunity to be passed up lightly, if at all. 

  
“I accept,” Jon said finally. He wanted to learn, and he was going to prove himself to everyone here in Winterfell that he was more than just a bastard while doing it. 

  
“Good. Training begins tomorrow at dawn,” said Hasashi, and without another word, he walked out of the Godswood, leaving Jon by himself.

* * *

As agreed, Jon woke up the next day at the crack of dawn and readied himself for his first lesson. He hadn't felt this excited in a long time about anything, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of Hasashi's time. So, he practically raced out of his bedroom, through the halls, out the castle and into the Godswood.

  
Hasashi was already waiting, and he was kneeling in front of the heart tree in his hakama, his wooden sword laying across his lap and his eyes closed. His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out, and Jon wondered if the man was saying a prayer. He also noticed that Hasashi had another wooden sword styled after his katana, with wooden chips spread around the mossy ground. 

  
Jon made sure to be quiet as he approached so that he wouldn't disturb his new teacher, but Hasashi opened his eyes suddenly and looked up at him.

  
“Good morning,” he greeted.

  
“Good morning my lord,” replied Jon. 

  
“First lesson; do not call me ‘lord’ or ‘Ser’ or any of those other fancy titles from here on out,” said Hasashi curtly as he stood up. “You shall only address me as ‘Sensei,’ which is the YiTish word for teacher in your language. Is that understood?”

  
“Yes my lo- I mean, yes Sensei,” said Jon, correcting himself just in time. 

  
Hasashi stood up and tossed the spare wooden sword at Jon, who caught it.

  
“This is a bokken, a training sword used by Jeonsa,” explained Hasashi. “Do not lose this, otherwise your old teacher will get upset if I keep taking his wood.”

  
Jon grinned slightly at that while Hasashi continued.

  
“Jeonsa is not merely a title given to warriors of the Golden Empire of Yi Ti,” he said. “In fact, only a few thousand can actually claim that title. Jeonsa is a way of life, a culture within a culture that very few master. A more accurate translation for the word would be ‘servant.’ We dedicate our lives to the service of our _Daimyo_, or our lords who in turn serve the Emperor.

  
“In many ways, Jeonsa are similar to the knights of your continent's southern kingdoms. However, the code of a knight is more morally flexible than that of a Jeonsa's. We do not sell our skills for money except in times of great hardship. We are strict and dedicated in all our actions and deeds. To move from this path is to bring great dishonour and shame upon one.”

  
Jon was fascinated by the history of the Jeonsa as Hasashi kept teaching. A culture within a culture, he had described it, and the more Hasashi spoke, the more the term made sense. Jeonsa were typically picked from the nobility of Yi Ti and trained from the moment they could walk. They were dedicated, disciplined disciples of war who lived their lives to the perfection of whatever they pursued. Because the Jeonsa were so few in number, each warrior had to be worth ten men as they were responsible for the defence of their lands against pirates, the Jogos Nhai, a nomadic, warlike race of people similar to the Dothraki and even other neighbouring lords of their own country.

  
The Jeonsa originated from the isle of Leng, a sub-kingdom to Yi Ti that was ruled by a God-Empress. Leng was Hasashi and Chizuru's homeland, and it was there that anyone wishing to join the ancient order trained for many years until their skills were honed to perfection. 

  
“Now, we begin your training,” finished Hasashi. 

  
“Sensei, I have one question,” said Jon. When Hasashi gestured for him to continue, he asked, “Why did you choose me to be your student?” 

  
There was a long pause as Hasashi thought of a way to answer. His gaze became distant as he stared at nothing.

  
“Because I too was an outcast before I became a Jeonsa,” he finally said. “My family had been murdered by raiding pirates, and my sister taken. I was left to die on the streets, begging for food until the Daimyo of my province, Lord Shingen, took me into his home when he saw me fight off three robbers with nothing but a stick in my hands. I was ten years old at the time. 

  
“I see much of myself in you, Jon Snow. A boy who despite living amongst the most powerful men and women in the country, still does not belong and probably never will until he has proven himself. Teaching you how to be a Jeonsa is the best way I can show you how to do that. And it certainly helps that you have a natural talent with the blade.” 

  
Jon felt himself puff up at the compliment and he fought to hide his smile, but it didn't matter anyway because Hasashi wasn't looking.   
“Now, we begin your training,” continued Hasashi. 

  
And so Jon spent the next few hours slowly learning how to hold his bokken in the way a Jeonsa, or more accurately an Orochi wielded a katana. Hasashi was patient but demanding as he corrected Jon's stance and technique over and over again, smacking him wherever he needed correcting to prove a point. By the time Hasashi was done with Jon, the sun had risen, but that wasn't the end. The next hours after that, Jon spent his time getting beaten into the ground by his teacher. Hasashi seemed to be a believer of learning on the job, and would bark out instructions while ruthlessly smacking his bokken into Jon's body again and again.

  
The sun was beginning its descent, long after midday when Hasashi finally called an end to the day's lesson. Jon could finally see why Hasashi deemed being under histutelage as a punishment. He was beyond exhausted and everywhere hurt, and he had no doubt that his entire body was going to be black and blue by the day's end. However, Jon couldn't find it in himself to regrethis decision. He felt like he had learned a lot from his new teacher, and looked forward to tomorrow's lesson.

  
But first, he had to eat and meet up with Chae and Chizuru for his daily lesson in speaking YiTish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a filler chapter to help build Jon and Chae's relationship more as well as his training as a Jeonsa, and then after that it will be a time jump into canon time. 
> 
> Also I'm not sure when the next chapter will come out because of my shot wifi and my friend's passing, but I'll try my best for you guys. Love you all.


	5. A Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wifi's back! So here's the next chapter!

Three months of long days spent doing the same things had become Jon's life. As a bastard, he had never had a whole lot of responsibility around Winterfell besides attending his lessons with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik, unlike Robb who had to learn his lordly duties as future Warden of the North. But now, Jon was busier than ever.

  
Firstly, his mornings consisted of getting beaten down again and again by Hasashi in the Godswood as he trained to fight like a Jeonsa with his bokken. Hasashi was afar more strict and brutal teacher than Ser Rodrik ever had been, and Jon's skin was almost always marred with deep purple bruises all over his body, as well as blistered hands from gripping and swinging his bokken for hours on end. Father had noticed how sore he always was and offered to ask Hasashi to tone down on his teaching methods, but Jon had waved him off. If experiencing a little pain every day was what it took to become one of the best swordsmen in the world, then the sacrifices were worth it.

  
After that, Hasashi would continue to teach Jon more exercises and techniques unique to the way of the Jeonsa that helped improve just about everything. The style was very different to what Jon was accustomed to. The Northern way of fighting involved a lot more use of punching and fighting dirty in order to gain an advantage over the enemy, but the Jeonsa style was more fluid and flexible, like a dance of death that was very deliberate and methodical. It was taking a while to get used to the drastic changes for the young Northern boy, but he was slowly getting the hang of it. 

  
Hasashi, while a demanding teacher, was not without his praises however. He would compliment Jon whenever he did something right, though mostly the praises would come in the form of approving nods and grunts, usually followed by constructive yet pride-shattering feedback on what was done wrong. Jon didn't mind though, he thought it helped him keep his humility and recognise that there was much to improve upon. After all, Jon was fairly certain that Hasashi didn't become Leng's Champion in the space of a day. 

  
Usually after his training sessions with Hasashi, Jon would then have his lunch and meet with Chizuru, who would teach him the non-combative side of being a Jeonsa. So far she had showed him how to properly put on a hakama without assistance, how to bow and address his superiors in the YiTish fashion and carry his sword. Jeonsa did not strap their swords to a belt like the Westerosi did; instead, they kept their two blades (for Jeonsa always carried two, a katana and a slightly smaller blade called a wakizashi) tucked into a sash of clothed tied around their waist, called an obi. There were also various ceremonies, etiquettes and dances performed in (they even had a rule against wearing shoes or boots inside rooms) that were upheld to the strictest obedience, all of which Jon was having a hard time adjusting to due to his more relaxed Northern upbringing. 

  
After his lessons with Chizuru, Jon had yet more lessons with Chae, this time focussing on learning YiTish and teaching her Common Tongue. These lessons usually went hand in hand with being the girl's bodyguard, which was slightly surprising to Jon as Hasashi and Chizuru were both fiercely protective of Chae. Hasashi said that as a future Jeonsa he had a responsibility to protect the nobility of Yi Ti, confirming Chae's origins as a highborn girl. However, Jon took his guard duty as a sign that both Hasashi and Chizuru trusted him to protect their charge, which filled him with gratitude and pride. 

  
By the end of his language lessons/spending time with Chae, the day was usually almost over and Jon was too tired to do anything else. He knew it was cutting into his time with his family and other friends, and that it was starting to negatively impact his relationships with them. Robb, while not as bad as he had been when the YiTish first arrived, was still a little distant, and Jon had learned from Arya that his older brother was actually a little jealous that Jon had something he could never have. 

  
Arya herself had grown even more wild and rebellious when her mother had forbidden her from interacting with the three foreigners, Chizuru especially. And so, Arya had made it her life's mission to cause Lady Stark far more grief than ever before, fighting with Sansa more and causing mayhem in her lessons with Septa Mordane. Jon was usually one of the only people to calm his little sister's wolf's blood, but he had been far too busy with other things to do anything about it. 

  
His less time spent with Bran and Rickon was also starting to have a negative impact on their relationship. The two youngest Stark boys, both of them being very young (with Rickon being little more than a babe), were often seen wandering around the castle asking for their dark-haired brother's whereabouts, crying when they were either denied from visiting him or couldn't find him. And Sansa, well, nothing much had changed there if Jon was being honest with himself. 

  
Lady Stark, despite being weighed down by the pressures of her three youngest children's increased rebellious attitudes, seemed otherwise happy that Jon wasn't as strong of a presence as he once was. She had made it no secret that he was not welcome in Winterfell, and with his time being almost completely occupied with training and lessons, she had relaxed somewhat now that he was supposedly no longer tainting her trueborn children with his ‘bastard ways.’ Being around Hasashi and Chizuru so much had had a profound impact on Jon in that he no longer cared what the Stark matriarch thought of him anymore. 

  
It was three months since Jon began his training, and another month before that since Chae, Chizuru and Hasashi came to Winterfell. It was the evening, and Jon, all the Starks, Theon, Chae and the Jeonsa were all seated together. Jon was sitting in between Arya and Chae, though the seats opposite them were empty. 

  
A little down the table, Hasashi looked downright disgusted by the food, having still not gotten used to the more fatty foods made to warm bellies, as opposed to the fish and rice-based diet YiTish people usually ate according to Hasashi. Chizuru did a lot better in hiding her distaste for the Northern food, but it was clear in the way she scrunched her eyes up that she agreed with Hasashi's disapproving grunts. At least Chae seemed to enjoy the food, or she was a better actor than Jon gave her credit for.

  
It was quiet, with everyone too busy eating to talk too much, though there was some idle chatter going on between Robb and Theon, who were sitting not far away. Jon guessed that they were talking about him or Chae, as they kept glancing in their direction. He looked to the girl next to him, who seemed to have caught on as well as she was pointedly ignoring them. Jon narrowed his eyes, particularly at Theon. They were planning something, or at least Theon was. 

  
Jon's suspicions were proven true when Theon suddenly stood up and moved chairs directly opposite Chae, with that same smile he gave to girls who had caught his fancy. Theon reckoned it made him look handsome, and while it seemed to work on some of the kitchen wenches he had bedded, to Jon it just made him want to roll his eyes. 

  
“Hello,” said Theon, “We've never been properly introduced. I'm Theon.” 

  
Chae forced out a polite smile and bowed her head slightly, but otherwise said nothing in response as she looked to Jon. Jon felt his spine go rigid as he straightened up, feeling ready to intervene if necessary. Down the table, Hasashi and Chizuru both had stopped eating as well, and they were watching the event unfold like hawks in case they had to come and help.

  
“Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?” continued Theon, looking completely oblivious to the fact that he was clearly not welcome at this time. 

  
“Thank you,” said Chae meekly. She was starting to look uncomfortable as she kept glancing to Jon for help.

  
“Perhaps you and I can get to know one another better? Say tonight, I can take you for a walk along the battlements,” suggested Theon.  
Jon couldn't stop the snort from escaping him, making the Ironborn finally look at him in annoyance. 

  
“Do you have something to say, Snow?” he snapped.

  
“Forgive me, I think something I ate went down the wrong way,” replied Jon as he fought to keep the smile off his face. 

  
Theon narrowed his eyes as he tried to search for the obvious lie that had come out of Jon, before turning back to Chae to await her answer. Chae, however, looked at Jon.

  
“_I don't want to be alone with this man_,” she said in YiTish. Jon didn't understand every word she said, but he got the idea. 

  
“Chae politely declines your invitation,” said Jon to Theon. Theon didn't seem to like that answer, because he stood up suddenly with a scowl on his face.

  
“Whatever, I don't expect a woman who throws her lot in with a bastard to appreciate a real man,” he spat.

  
This time Jon didn't even bother to hide his snort as he fired back, “Is that what you are Greyjoy? Last I recall you were nothing more than a glorified hostage.” 

  
Deathly silence filled the hall at Jon's retort. He was aware that he had crossed a line, but he felt it was worth it just by seeing the shocked and angry look cross Theon's face. 

  
“I may be a hostage, but I have a future. And at least I know who my mother was,” he said viciously. 

  
Jon reared back like he'd been slapped. That was a low blow, even by Theon's standards and Jon felt his heart turn to ice. The Ironborn, and most people who knew Jon well knew that he'd been searching his whole life for his mother's identity and whereabouts. Father, for some reason or another had kept who she was to himself, even from his lady wife. It was a sore spot for Jon and Theon knew it as well. Father too had gone pale, and his knuckles were bone-white as he clutched his cup tightly.

  
“Foolish _gaijin_,” hissed Chae to Theon when she saw that Jon had lowered his head. 

  
“Watch your mouth you little-“ began Theon angrily, but a tap on his shoulder stopped him. 

  
Hasashi was suddenly standing right behind Theon, his left had resting on the pommel of his sword casually. Theon turned around and his face went pale at the sight of the Orochi, but to his credit he stood his ground. Nobody had seen him move from his seat. 

  
“Can I ask what you are doing with Lady Chae and my student?” asked Hasashi.

  
“Nothing Ser, just making conversation,” said Theon.

  
“I am not one of your Southron knights, and I asked what you were doing with Lady Chae and my student,” said Hasashi in a low, dangerous voice. “And do not lie to me, because I already know the answer.” 

  
Theon looked like he wanted to argue, but he eventually cowered under the withering glare of the Orochi. “I came here to make Jon Snow angry on purpose because I knew that he cared about Lady Chaeyoung,” he admitted with his head ducked like a little boy.

  
“So you did it because you thought it funny to insult a boy who does not know his mother?” questioned Hasashi.

  
Theon bristled at that, but shamefully nodded his head in defeated resignation.

  
“Lord Hasashi,” said Father. He had come down from his seat at the high table, no doubt to diffuse any confrontation as he looked between Theon, Hasashi and Jon. “Is there a problem?”

  
“There is, Lord Stark,” said Hasashi. “Your ward has come over here with the intention of insulting my lady and student for his own entertainment.”

  
“Is this true Theon?” asked Father. 

  
“Yes, my lord,” said Theon. 

  
Father nodded his head and turned back to Hasashi. “I am sorry about this. My ward should know better than to insult Jon, or even Lady Chaeyoung,” he said. “I will make sure that Theon is properly punished,” he promised. 

  
“What you should make sure of is letting Jon Snow know who his mother is,” snapped Hasashi. Father took a step back at the same time Jon looked up in surprise. No one had ever dared talk to Father like that, but Hasashi was not backing down as he glared at the Lord of Winterfell.

  
“What I tell my son is none of your-“ began Father in a low voice.

  
“Yet no boy deserves the fate of never knowing who is mother is or was because of their father's selfishness,” said Hasashi. The entire hall was watching the two men with wide eyes. Never had anyone challenged Father like Hasashi was doing right now, and nobody knew how to react. Even Lady Stark looked too stunned to do anything. 

  
What shocked everyone further was when Father's shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply. He looked so tired right then to Jon, and he looked at his second son.

  
“Come Jon,” he said. 

  
Jon felt frozen in his seat. Wait, was this actually happening? Was Father actually going to tell him who his mother was? It took Chae nudging him for Jon to snap out of his daze and chase after his lord father, who was already almost out of the hall. 

  
The two of them went outside of the castle, where Father led Jon to the entrance of the crypt of all places. Perhaps they were going to talk in the most private place in possibly all of the North, where only the ghosts of the Kings and Lords of Winter would hear. 

  
Father led Jon past the statues of deceased grandfather Rickard and uncle Brandon, who had both been murdered by the Mad King Aerys Targaryen right before Robert's Rebellion. He stopped at the statue of Aunt Lyanna, another casualty to the war that ended the Targaryen reign. For a long time, Father did not speak as he stared at his dead sister's statue with so much pain and sorrow on his face that Jon's own heart broke for the woman he had never met. However, the silence was drawn out so long that he started to feel uncomfortable standing in the same place.

  
“Lyanna met Prince Rhaegar at the tourney of Harrenhal, wearing mismatched armour so that she could participate as a mystery knight in the jousts,” said Father so suddenly that Jon almost jumped in shock. “Aerys Targaryen had called for her head, not knowing who she was because he was. He was extremely mad, and Rhaegar had been put in charge of finding and delivering the King's Justice. However, he didn't bring Lyanna to the king. Instead, he kept her secret, but you know the rest of the story.”

  
Jon did. Rhaegar won the tourney, but instead of giving the crown of roses to his wife Elia Martell, he gave them to Lyanna. It caused quite a scandal and was the first strike of a match that culminated in Robert's Rebellion.

  
“Almost everyone believes that Rhaegar kidnapped and raped Lyanna, but that wasn't the case,” continued Father. “They fell in love, so much so that Rhaegar annulled his marriage to Elia and ran away with her. You see, Lyanna was unhappy with her betrothal to Robert Baratheon, but I was too blinded by my friendship to him to see that she was suffering. She willingly took the first opportunity at freedom she could, ignorant of the consequences that eventually fell.

  
“Robert believed she had been kidnapped, as did my father and brother. They were murdering for treason against the crown, and I, believing Lyanna's honour had been destroyed and grieving for my family, declared my banners. The war ended with Rhaegar dead at the Trident, his eldest two children and first wife dead, the other Targaryens scattered and Robert on the throne.”

  
“First wife? Eldest children?” said Jon in confusion. None of this was making any sense.

  
Father gave him a sad smile. “Lyanna and Rhaegar were wed in Dorne with the High Septon as the officiator and witness, and consummated their marriage in the Tower of Joy,” he said.

  
“When I found Lyanna at the end of the war, she was being guarded by three of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne. Only myself and Lord Howland Reed survived the ensuing battle, and I found Lyanna in the tower, laying in her bed soaked in her own blood. She had fallen pregnant, and there were some complications during the birth that left her dying.

  
“She lived long enough to tell me of her son's birth and name, and made me swear to protect her son from Rhaegar's enemies, because she knew they would try to kill the boy if they found out the last remaining heir to the Iron Throne was still alive. Lyanna died, and I brought the boy home to Winterfell under the guise of my bastard son.”

  
It took a long time before Father's information clicked in Jon's head. But when it did, he suddenly felt the air leave his lungs like had been punched in the gut. Lyanna Stark was his mother? Father wasn't actually his father? Jon bent over as he tried to catch his breath, but the truth of his heritage was almost too much to handle. He had never been a Stark, he'd never been a Snow either! He was a Targaryen, a family of madmen and sister-fuckers who almost destroyed the Seven Kingdoms with their madness. 

  
“Why didn't you tell me?” Jon gasped out. He could feel tears were coming down his face, but he ignored them as he looked to his father- no, his uncle.

  
“It was the only way I could protect you,” said Lord Stark. “The less people who knew, the safer you would be.”

  
“But, but she was my mother!” yelled Jon. His voice echoed through the crypts, making the weight of his words seem that much heavier.   
Lord Stark looked just as upset as Jon as his tears fell down into his beard. The burden of the most well-kept secret in the Seven Kingdoms made him seem fifty years older, but Jon was too upset to notice.

  
“I have to go,” he cried out.

  
“Jon...” began Lord Stark, but Jon pushed past him and ran as fast as he could out of the crypt. He didn't belong in their, and it seemed the ghosts of the dead Starks were taunting him, telling him to never come back as he fled.

* * *

The Godswood was eerily silent the two days after the truth of Jon's parents was revealed. The air had changed in Winterfell as whole, everybody could feel it, and they all knew it had something to do with what Lord Stark had told his bastard son.

  
Except, Jon wasn't Ned Stark's bastard, or even his son. No, Jon was his nephew, the Targaryen who looked more like a Stark than any of Ned's trueborn children. He'd avoided his father- no, uncle and cousins like the plague for the past two days, feeling unworthy to be in their presence. In Jon's eyes, Lady Stark had been right the whole time. He was a threat to Robb's claim to Winterfell and the North.

  
Actually, he was far worse. Jon had a claim to all of the Seven Kingdoms, regardless of if Robert Baratheon had usurped the throne.

  
And that was another thing Lady Stark had been right about. Jon was dangerous just being alive. If Robert Baratheon found out about the truth of Jon's parentage, he would kill him and everyone associated with him, regardless of whether or not they knew the truth about him. Maybe it was best that Jon went to the Wall to join the Night's Watch. That way everyone would be safe. 

  
Jon was pulled from his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He recognised the slow, measured pace and how softly it sounded on the mossy ground of the Godswood. He didn't want to see her, because she would see right through him.

  
Nevertheless, Jon turned around to face Chae, who was wrapped up in furs to protect her from the cold Northern air. It was colder than it had been in recent months, and Chae's cheeks and nose were red from the cold. She was looking up at Jon with a worried expression. Her hair was not immaculately done up in a YiTish fashion like it usually was. Instead, her hair was tied up at the top of her head in a simple bun, though there were many loose strands coming off that framed her face. 

  
“_Are you okay?_” Chae asked in a quiet, concerned voice. 

  
“_Yes_,” said Jon. Then he frowned, sighed and said in a defeated tone, “_No_.”

  
“_You learned who your mother was correct?_” said Chae. When Jon nodded in confirmation, she added, “_Why are you not happy then?_”

  
“_Because Lord Stark, he_... lied,” Jon said the last word in Common Tongue as he didn't know it in YiTish. Chae though understood perfectly as she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  
“You want to... talk?” she asked slowly. Her accent was strongest when she tried to speak in Common Tongue, but she was easy to understand anyway. 

  
Jon shook his head. “No, but thank you,” he said. 

  
Chae nodded her head, but she didn't look entirely happy with Jon's answer. However, she didn't push the issue, but she didn't leave his side either. Jon found himself not minding her presence. If it had been anybody else, he would have told them to leave, even if it was Robb or Arya. But Chae...

  
Well, Jon didn't know what Chae was to him. A friend, of course. One of, if not his best friend? Possibly. But everything had been happening so fast that Jon hadn't had time to process everything well enough. Life in Winterfell, as well as Jon's life was changing all too fast for him to keep up, and he felt like he was going to drown under all the pressure.

  
A soft gasp pulled Jon from his melancholy. He lifted his head up to see that Chae was looking up to the sky with a look of complete wonder on her face. When Jon looked up, he saw tiny snowflakes falling softly down from the sky, swirling in the gentle breeze that filtered through the Godswood. He realised that this was the first snow that had fallen since Chae had come to the North, and judging by the look on her face, she'd never seen it before. Jon was reminded of one of his lessons with Chizuru where she said that it only snowed in a few parts of Yi Ti, and only on the tops of the highest mountains where the monks lived. 

  
However, Jon found himself completely mesmerized by the sight of Chae as she stared up at the falling snow with child-like awe on her face. His current grievances all disappeared as he watched her succumb to the temptation all children fell for when she stuck her tongue out to catch a single snowflake on the tip. Somehow Chae had made the action seem so childlike while maintaining a womanly pose at the same time. She drew her tongue back into her mouth then smiled up at Jon so brightly that her eyes crinkled at the corners. 

  
Jon's stomach did a strange flip as his heartbeat picked up. He couldn't move from where he was standing while Chae was looking at him like that. In that moment he didn't care about the truth of who he was, or the ramifications it could cause. Jon wanted nothing more in life than to make sure Chae always smiled like that, if only to see her happy. 

  
In that moment, Jon swore to himself that he would do anything for the girl in front of him, even lay down his own life for her. 


	6. Six Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversations written in italics are to differentiate between Common Tongue and YiTish, just for clarification.

Jon scowled deeply as he gazed upon the Night's Watch deserter being dragged to the old log used for executions. His hand rested upon the hilt of his katana uneasily as the deserter mumbled incoherently like a madman, his head bowed in submission. Next to Jon, Robb shuffled uneasily, while Bran looked like he would be bolting in the opposite direction were it not for his older brother and cousin standing behind him.

  
Lord Stark had a grim look on his face as he too stared at the deserter. As the man was brought closer, Jon could pick up some of his mutterings. He was saying something about evil things beyond the Wall that were coming, but he couldn't make out what he was saying perfectly. 

  
Two of the Stark men forced the deserter onto his knees before the log, where Lord Stark was now saying a quiet prayer to the Old Gods with Ice, the Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark in his hands. 

  
“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” began Lord Stark. His grey gaze briefly flickered over to Jon, who made sure he didn't react at all. It had been six years since Jon learned who he really was, and while he had forgiven his uncle, that didn't mean the knowledge hurt any less. “I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North do sentence you to die. If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them.”

  
“I-I know I’m a coward m’lord,” said the deserter. “I should have gone back to Castle Black, but I know what I saw,” stammered the deserter. “You need to warn everyone. The White Walkers have returned, and they’re coming for us all.”

  
Robb and Theon scoffed at the man's ranting, but Jon felt ice grip his heart like a cold vice. He was reminded of the ice demon that chased the maiden through a snow-covered forest in his dreams that had plagued him for years now, and wondered, not for the first time if the dreams had actual merit to them. 

  
Lord Stark took the head of the deserter off with a single clean stroke of his sword, and the decapitated head fell to the ground with a sick thud as blood spurted out of the stump of a neck. Theon, in an act of childish immaturity kicked the head away with a laugh, making Jon clench his jaw in annoyance. However, he did nothing about it as he turned away while adjusting his two swords in his obi before climbing onto his waiting horse. He looked over his shoulder to see Lord Stark talking to Bran in a low voice. Robb came over to stop his horse right next to Jon and snorted.

  
“The deserter was a madman, raving about White Walkers and dead men walking,” he said.

  
Jon shrugged, but said nothing. Other than Lord and Lady Stark, Robb was the only other Stark who knew of Jon's true origins, which had helped mend their breaking relationship. However, both boys, now men, knew that what they once had could not ever be what it once was.

  
A breeze brushed past the Stark retinue, and Jon felt a strange chill come over him. He looked over to the Wolf's Wood, and felt a strange urge to go there. However, he ignored it when Lord Stark ordered the party to return to Winterfell. 

  
It wasn't until they were about to cross a bridge when Jon felt that urge come over him stronger than before, and at the same time he spotted something laying across the bridge.

  
“What in Seven Hells,” muttered Robb in shock. Jon silently dismounted from his sword and kept his hand on the hilt of his katana as he approached. It was a mangled corpse of a stag that had its throat ripped out and guts spilled. It was missing an antler, and already decay had begun to set in as flies swarmed the body. 

  
“What did this?” exclaimed Ser Rodrik.

  
“A mountain lion?” suggested Theon.

  
“Mountain lions do not live this far North,” said Jon. He crouched over the body, ignoring the smell and inspected the damage. Whatever had killed the stag, it was larger and stronger than any mountain lion. But why hadn't it finished off its meal? There was still plenty of meat left over. 

  
Jon heard a noise, or at least he thought he did coming from a shallow bank. Without another word, he straightened up and headed down, ignoring the cries of protest from his uncle and guards. He descended down the bank lightly, following the smell of rotting flesh and strange yipping sounds. Jon found a large, horse-sized body and actually let out a gasp.

  
It was the largest wolf Jon had ever seen, lying dead at the bottom of the bank with an antler sticking through its neck. Flies were starting to hover around the wounds, and at its stomach were five pups, suckling at long-dried out teats. The pups' eyes had not yet opened their eyes, and the first signs of malnourishment had begun to set in. 

  
“By the Old Gods and the New, what is that?!” exclaimed Jory Cassel. 

  
“It's a monster,” said Robb.

  
“It's a direwolf,” corrected Jon as he picked up one of the pups. 

  
Lord Stark came over and yanked the antler from the dead mother's neck and inspected it with a dark look in his eyes. Jon too felt uneasy about the whole situation, reminded again of the dream of the wolf and the lion disguised as a stag. 

  
There was much talk and discussion as to what should be done about the direwolf pups, but eventually Jon managed to convince Lord Stark to give the five pups to each of his trueborn children. Jon was prepared to go without until he saw to beads of red staring up at him. A sixth wolf, this one whose fur was white as snow and eyes like rubies. It looked exactly like the white wolf that joined the war against the false stag and protected the maiden in his dreams, which disturbed Jon highly.

  
It seemed more and more things were happening that were no mere coincidences. 

  
When their little party eventually returned to Winterfell, Jon immediately took his little white wolf to the kitchens, where he managed to snag a rag and some warm milk, which he let the pup suckle on. The pup was ravenous as it licked up the dripping milk from the rag, and Jon smiled. So far, it had yet to make a single noise, but its red eyes gleamed with an intelligence, like it knew who Jon was. 

  
Jon took the pup and the milk out of the kitchens and out to the yard, where he told his siblings to go fetch milk for their own wolves before settling down on top of a crate with his pup tucked into the crook of his elbow. He watched as Ser Rodrik barked orders to the men in the training yards as they sparred, while nearby Theon had taken to shooting at targets with his bow and arrows. Jon knew that Theon was a little upset that he had not gotten a wolf of his own, but at the end of the day the Ironborn was a kraken, not a wolf. At least Jon was half-wolf.

  
Quiet, measured footsteps alerted Jon that someone was approaching. He turned and looked up just as Chae sat down on top of a barrel opposite him, with a curious expression on her face as she glanced between him and the wolf pup. 

  
“_What is it?_” she asked in YiTish.

  
“_A direwolf pup. We found it and its siblings near their dead mother that had been killed by a stag_,” answered Jon. 

  
“_A direwolf? Like your uncle's family's sigil?_” said Chae curiously.

  
Jon nodded his head. One of the best things about being able to speak a language nobody else could understand gave Jon and Chae the freedom to talk about anything openly without worry of eavesdroppers, allowing them to talk about things like the fact that Jon was not Lord Stark's bastard son. 

  
Chae smiled, her eyes crinkling up at the corners as she gently petted the top of the suckling wolf's head. The little pup didn't seem to mind at all, though his red eyes looked between Jon and Chae inquisitively.

  
_Old Gods and the New, she's beautiful_, thought Jon for probably the millionth time as he stared at the girl in front of him. Chae had blossomed into a beauty unlike anything he had ever seen. She was beauty and grace rolled into one, though there was a fire within her that rarely showed, though glimpses of it could be seen whenever she was twirling a dagger in her hand like a master assassin. 

  
Chae had recently died her hair red like Sansa's, though a little lighter with hints of pink in it, and it had been straightened from its usual slight curls. Sye had also grown out her bangs so that you could see her forehead, and she almost always styled her hair so that it was loose, without being done up in any way. How she had dyed or straightened her hair, or even gotten the supplies to do so remained a mystery to Jon, but Chae actually suited the look very well. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes, her lips which had naturally filled out slightly and petite-yet lean muscled body, as well as the traditional YiTish clothing she always wore set her apart from everyone else, but at the same time she had become a permanent fixture in Winterfell. Many visiting lordlings had tried their best to win Chae's favour, but she had always been so polite and friendly that even though the lordlings were rejected, none could find it in their hearts to hate the woman. To most, she was a mystery that few could unravel, though Jon was proud to say that he was one of the few who truly knew Chae.

  
And, he was utterly and hopelessly in love with her. He had been ever since that day when she had come to the Godswood to comfort him after he found out about who his mother was. Since then, Jon had made it his mission in life to protect Chae and make sure she was always happy, and they had grown closer and closer over the six years since she had come to the North. 

  
Jon was fairly certain that Chae felt the same way towards him, but neither one had acted on their feelings. Despite being a secret prince, years of believing himself to be a bastard left Jon feeling totally unworthy of having Chae as his own. He was also fairly certain that Hasashi would murder him if he tried to ask for her hand in marriage, and that was if Chizuru didn't get to him first. As for Chae, well, whatever it was that had her and the others fleeing their homeland was a constant shadow over the lives of the three YiTish, even if Jon still didn't know what that was. But ye knew that Chae was scared, even if she had still yet to reveal to Jon everything about her.

  
Jon didn't mind, it was not his secret to know anyway, but he still yearned to know so that he could better know how to protect his friends and the woman he loved.

* * *

“A raven came from King's Landing,” said Cat.

  
Ned looked up from where he was sharpening and cleaning Ice of the blood of the Night's Watch deserter to see his wife approaching with her hand clutched tightly around the mentioned letter.

  
“Lord Jon Arryn has passed,” continued Cat. “And the king and his family are on their way here as we speak.”

  
Ned felt sadness come over him as he remembered his foster father, a man who had taught him to value honour above all other things. Ned had spent his life trying to emulate what Lord Arryn had taught him, yet he had been tried and failed many times. But the other piece of information, of Robert coming here was something else. If the king was coming to Winterfell, it could only mean one of two things.

  
Either Robert intended to make Jon his new Hand of the King, or he was coming to organise a betrothal between their Houses. Ned wasn't sure how he felt about that.

  
“Then we must prepare for the royal family's arrival,” he said gravely. 

  
“I received another letter from my sister Lysa,” said Cat, “she claims that the Lannisters killed her husband.”

  
Ned paused his cleaning mid-stroke. He trusted the Lannisters about as far as he could throw one. They were a power hungry lot, and with Tywin Lannister at the head of the family it made them dangerous adversaries who thought they could take whatever they wanted with little regard for honour. 

  
“That...changes things,” said Ned slowly. 

  
“If what my sister said is true, that means there is a plot going on in the capital that we need to uncover,” said Cat. “But we have to think about something else as well.”

  
“What's that?” asked Ned.

  
“Jon,” stated Cat flatly.

  
Ned swore under his breath. With both Robert and half the Lannister family being here in Winterfell, it would mean that his nephew was in terrible danger of being discovered. Despite Jon having become a formidable warrior under Hasashi's tutelage for the last six years, being capable of now easily fighting off six men in the training yard easily in a style that seemed to be a combination of the Orochi and Chizuru's styles, Ned feared that Jon wouldn't be skilled enough to take on the likes of the Kingslayer.

  
Yet he was warmed by Cat's concern for the boy. Ned had told his wife the truth finally after revealing it to Jon, and she had been angry at him for weeks afterwards. It had taken even longer for Cat to mend the rift between herself and Jon, but eventually they had forgiven one another and were at least civil with each other these days. She still didn't like the YiTish people however. 

  
“Send for Jon. We need to discuss this with him immediately,” Ned decided.

  
Cat bowed her head before walking away, leaving Ned to the silence and company of the Old Gods once more. Here, he felt at peace, especially after performing an execution. The words of the deserter had rattled him, even if he didn't outwardly show it. He truly wanted to dismiss the claims of White Walkers and living dead as the mere ravings of a madman who was too cowardly to admit he had simply run away from his vows, but the fear Ned had seen in the man's ryes was unmistakeable. Something else, in his heart was also telling him to put stock into the deserter's words, something that felt as old as the Wall itself. 

  
Cat returned, this time with Jon and, unsurprisingly with Chae in tow behind her. He was dressed in his hakama, as he called it which meant that he had either been training or had been on guard duty for Lady Chaeyoung, mostly likely the latter option as Jon only trained in the very early hours of the day. Another interesting thing about his nephew. Jon had taken to the YiTish ways and culture like a direwolf in a Northern forest, adopting much of what made the foreigners different to the rest of the people of the North. He walked like one, talked like one, and even fought like one like he was a native to their country. Even now Jon had his two swords tucked into the sash he wore around his waist, a gift he had received from his two teachers who had deemed him worthy of carrying a blade (or two). 

  
And Ned had noticed how much Jon cared for the Lady Chaeyoung next to him. They were both the same age, and in the six and a half years since they had been rescued from the storm that destroyed their ship, Jon had developed a relationship with Lady Chae that went beyond bodyguard or even friend. They cared for each other in much the same way that Ned had grown to care for Cat, yet as far as he knew neither of them had acted on their feelings. But the longing glances one sent while the other wasn't looking, or the way they were always near, if not standing or sitting next to each other had been noticed by just about everybody in Winterfell. 

  
Ned was happy to see Jon more happy when he was around the girl, and for good reason. Chaeyoung had grown into a stunning beauty to rival many, if not most of the highborn ladies in the Seven Kingdoms. With her jet-black hair, pale skin and exotic features only found in Yi Ti, she had the power to turn the heads of just about every man in the castle just by being in the same room. Ned had heard Sansa cry on several occasions because she never felt or looked pretty enough compared to Chaeyoung, and while Arya hadn't openly said anything, even she looked envious of the YiTish girl. Yet Chaeyoung acted no different from any other girl. She treated everyone with respect and a smile on her face, and her Common Tongue had improved to the point of fluency thanks to Jon. Ned was thankful for Jon’s friendship with Chaeyoung, and he secretly wished that his nephew would begin courting her. She knew who he really was, and had not rejected him, instead making it her aim to make sure that Jon never fell too deep into his brooding ways.

  
“You sent for me, my lord?” said Jon with a small bow.

  
“I did, come here Jon,” answered Ned.

  
Cat stepped to the side to let Jon pass while Chaeyoung lingered behind, looking like she shouldn't have been there in the first place. While normally Ned would have sent her away, he also knew that Jon was going to tell her everything anyway. And it would be good for the YiTish girl to know that the royal family was coming in order to prepare herself and her guardians. 

  
Jon stopped right in front of Ned, looking expectant.

  
“A raven was sent here this morning from King's Landing,” began Ned, “Robert Baratheon and his family are coming here.”

  
Jon did not outwardly react in any way that Ned could see, except for the slight tightening of his hands. Other than that, he looked calm as a breeze. However, it was when Jon was the quietest that Ned knew he was either extremely angry or was processing information. 

  
“When will he arrive?” asked Jon. 

  
“In a moon's turn,” answered Ned. Jon looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded his head once.

  
“I suppose you want me to do my best to avoid the king until he leaves so that he doesn't get suspicious,” he said.

  
“Your looks alone will not be enough for the king or anyone to guess your true identity,” said Cat. “However...” she trailed off then as she looked at Ned.

  
“Your mannerisms and personality are all your father,” finished Ned with a sigh. “Even your skills with a sword were inherited by Rhaegar. He was one of the best swordsmen of his time, and, if I'm being honest, though Robert was also talented, he won by luck and rage. He couldn't fight in the last few battles at the end of the war because Rhaegar had injured him too badly. If anyone sees you fighting in the yards, they might start to connect the dots.”

  
“But I don't fight like anyone else in Westeros,” said Jon. “I fight like a Jeonsa, not a Northman or a knight. Everyone will think that I learned from Hasashi Sensei, which will be true.”

  
Ned couldn't argue that point, and neither could Cat by the resigned look she was giving. 

  
“Regardless, try not to draw too much attention to yourself,” warned Ned. 

  
“Of course,” said Jon. “I doubt many would pay attention to me anyway, the whole world still thinks I'm your bastard son.”

  
Jon didn't say it with any anger towards Ned, but he felt ashamed all the same. He had thought he was protecting Jon, and while he had, it still caused a lot of pain within the family. Ned was just lucky that Jon was such a forgiving person to begin with.

  
“My Lord, My Lady, if I may,” said Chaeyoung, speaking for the first time as she took a tentative step forward. “The King and his family will be curious as to why myself and my friends are here with you regardless, so can I suggest that we show them a little of our culture?”

  
Her words were crisp and clear, though her accent was still very strong. But Ned's attention was now on the young woman, as was Jon and Cat's. 

  
“We can show them one of our traditional dances that we often perform,” continued Chaeyoung. “I could teach a few servants and even your daughters the steps to the dance, though it is very complicated.”

  
“Which dance?” asked Jon curiously.

  
“_Okami no Matsuri,_ or ‘Festival of the Wolf,” said Chaeyoung.

  
Jon's eyes lit up in understanding and he smiled at her, which made Chaeyoung beam up at him in response. Ned felt his heart warm at the sight of the two young people in front of him, so clearly in love but not willing to do anything about it. But while Jon obviously knew what Chaeyoung was talking about, neither Ned or Cat had any idea.

  
“What is this dance about?” asked Cat. 

  
“It is a dance to herald the coming of winter when autumn makes itself known,” explained Chaeyoung. “It is... difficult to explain any more than that, but trust that it will be a wonderful event that will help gain House Stark favour.”

  
The girl knew how to play her cards right, Ned could admit to herself. She was beautiful and smart, and knew how to use her words to get what she wanted. Normally Ned disapproved the very clearly Southern way of politics, but he also knew that there wasn't a bad hair on Chaeyoung's head. 

  
“I think it's a good idea,” said Ned as he looked to his wife. Cat had never warmed to the YiTish as much as everyone else, but even she could see the merits of Chaeyoung's proposal.

  
“There is one thing however,” said Jon. “Who will act as the lead? The Festival of the Wolf dance requires that the fan dancer be male.”

  
“Are you suggesting that you do it?” said Chaeyoung.

  
“I already know it. Hasashi taught it to me three years ago and makes me do it without the music,” said Jon.

  
“No,” said Ned. They had literally just talked about making sure that Jon stayed away from the eyes and ears of Robert and the Lannisters, and now he wanted to perform on stage in front of every single one of them?

  
“Lord Stark, they will not know it is me,” argued Jon. “The dancers in the Festival of the Wolf dance wear masks to conceal their faces to help tell the story.”

  
“No,” reiterated Ned. He refused to bend on this, not even for Jon.

  
“The Wolf Lord's fan dance is the most complicated part of the whole thing, it will take more than a month before anyone else here can master it,” said Jon vehemently. “I already know it, so let me!”

  
“Know your place,” warned Ned as he stood up to his full height. While Jon had become a deadly warrior, probably the best swordsman living in the North after Hasashi, Ned was still Lord of Winterfell and as such had more authority than Jon.

  
_And whose fault is that?_ said a voice in the back of his mind. If the fates had been kinder, Jon would have been a prince of the Iron Throne.   
Jon’s jaw ticked underneath the dark beard he had grown, and his grey eyes glinted with defiance. Without another word, Jon stormed out of the Godswood, leaving the other three by themselves.

  
Chaeyoung looked to Ned then and said, “You know, all he wants is to make you proud,” before she turned around and walked after Jon. 

  
“He already has,” said Ned quietly as he felt his anger deflate inside of him. Jon was stronger than most people, like his mother had been and had already been through more than most people his age did. But Ned had sworn an oath to protect him, no matter the cost.

  
“Jon is right you know,” said Cat as she sidled up next to Ned. “I've seen the way he moves when he dances those YiTish performances, no one else could do it.”

  
“But the risk-“ began Ned.

  
“Will always be there regardless of if Jon decides to keep to his room the entire time King Robert is here,” interrupted Cat. “He will be wearing a mask the whole time, no one will know it is him except for us and his family and friends.”

  
“That's still to many people for my liking,” said Ned. 

  
“You can't keep him locked up here in Winterfell forever,” said Cat knowingly. “He is a man grown now, he needs to get out there, even if he takes that girl along with him.” 

  
Ned sighed, but accepted that his wife was right. “I will talk to Jon about letting him participate,” he conceded. 

  
_Old Gods help me_, thought Ned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be coming at a slightly more rapid rate now as I'm a littleahead of my original schedule, so there might be two or more chapters coming this week after this one.


	7. The Dance of the Wolf

The main courtyard of Winterfell was packed to the rafters of all the servants and guard of the Stark's ancestral home, and it was only getting more full as the king's retinue filed in. Jon unconsciously reached for the sword that wasn't at his belt as he saw more and more unfamiliar faces came into view, and he tried to steel himself in case anybody was watching, but it didn't seem to be working. 

  
_Maybe Hasashi's paranoia is finally starting to wear off on me_, Jon thought to himself. 

  
A soft hand gripped Jon's right one and gave a reassuring squeeze. Beside him, Chae’s eyes were on the king's retinue, but Jon could tell that she was focussed entirely on him. Jon squeezed Chae's hand back and held onto it like an anchor until King Robert climbed off his horse. The entire Stark household dropped down on one knee as they paid their respect that the king was owed, but Jon chanced a peek up.

  
Robert Baratheon was nothing like the stories Lord Stark had told him and his cousins. He had expected a tall man who was the very image of a one-man army with a giant warhammer. Instead, Jon found a fat man wheezing heavily as he sweat from the exertion of climbing off his horse with thick matted hair and a beard, wearing breeches and a jerkin that were one deep breath away from tearing to pieces. Jon found himself thoroughly unimpressed. Ser Jaime Lannister looked more like a king than Robert with his long golden hair and tall, well-built body. Jon wondered what Rhaegar must have been like when he was still alive.

  
Behind Robert, the Queen Cersei and her three children, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen came out of the wheelhouse wrapped snugly in thick furs to ward of the frigid Northern air. Cersei was definitely as beautiful as the rumours said, even after bearing three children, but to Jon, she didn't hold a candle compared to Chae. Prince Joffrey was the spitting image of his uncle Jaime, though his long hair was curly compared to Ser Jaime's straight. But there was something in Jaime's eyes, something that gleamed within that unsettled Jon. 

  
When the king bid everyone to rise, he firmly clasped Lord Stark in a hug with a booming laugh. Then, he was introduced to all of Lord Stark's children, but then his gaze settled on Jon and the three YiTish. 

  
“I heard rumours of you three being in the North,” said Robert gruffly. “But it seems that you three have adjusted quite well to this place.”

  
“We owe Lord Stark and Jon Snow our lives, Your Grace,” said Chizuru with a low bow at the hip. In the last six years, she had grown her hair out from a pixie cut to above her shoulders, though she almost always had it tied in a small tuft at the back of her head. 

  
“Lord Hasashi and Ladies Chizuru and Chaeyoung will be putting on a performance tonight at the welcome feast,” said Lord Stark. “And my son Jon has helped make sure that our three friends have been welcomed to the North.”

  
“Ah! The bastard hero!” boomed Robert as his attention turned to Jon, and he was almost knocked off his feet when the king clapped him on the shoulder. “Out here saving pretty young maidens from storms and such, eh?”

  
Well, so much for uncle's worry about me being noticed, thought Jon as he smiled tightly and bowed low, letting go of Chae's hand, which only made the king laugh even more loudly, if that was even possible.

  
“He looks just like you Ned!” he said happily. Then the king sobered up and demanded to be taken down to the crypts to pay his respects to Lyanna. 

  
Jon felt himself freeze up the tiniest bit at the mention of his dead mother's name. He'd made it a point to go visit her grave at least once a week and talk to her ever since he learned the truth, and even though he knew she couldn't hear him anymore, Jon liked to think that she was still watching over him. 

  
As Lord Stark and the king went down into the crypts and the royal party started to head into the castle under Lady Stark's guidance, Jon considered going down to follow his uncle to listen in on their conversation. But then he saw Hasashi giving him a pointed look, followed by a small shake of his head. Jon was about to argue, but then Chae tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.  
“Will you come and help set up the yard for the performance with me?” she asked.   
Jon could never resist Chae when she was looking at him with wide, pleading eyes, so he forgot his curiosity to hear his uncle and the king's conversation and followed the beautiful woman out of the main courtyard.

* * *

The stage and everything had been set up, and Jon, the three YiTish and the servants participating had rehearsed several times until the afternoon before they all separated for their other duties, leaving Jon with some time to do whatever he wanted before the feast. But surely there was something else to be done?

  
“Rest Jon,” said Chae as she came to stand next to him.

  
“There might be something else to do,” said Jon. “Perhaps one more rehearsal wouldn't hurt?”

  
Chae let out a tinkling laugh as she smiled up at Jon. “There is nothing more to be done. Rest, you will need your energy for tonight,” she advised gently yet firmly.

  
Jon wanted to argue, but Chae had all but commanded him to leave, and he couldn't refuse an order from his lady, no matter how kindly she said it. So he bowed lowly to her and Chizuru, then walked out of the yard and into the castle.

  
Jon went into his room and practised his kata for about an hour, but then decided it would be a good idea to have aa short rest to ensure he had enough energy for the performance. So Jon lay down on top of his eyes and stared up at the ceiling until his eyes fluttered closed.

  
_Something terrible had happened, Jon could feel it. He could smell smoke and ash, but he felt helpless to stop whatever was burning. Faceless people were running everywhere in a familiar courtyard, passing by Jon without acknowledging he was there as they screamed and called for help. Jon saw a tower burning, but his attention was quickly diverted when something moved in the corner of his eye._

  
_Jon spun around to see black shadows, with faces like YiTish demons called Oni slithered into the stone walls of the castle, unseen by everyone except for Jon. Their menacing appearance and swords indicated they were up to shed blood, so Jon followed them. The passageways were dark, making it difficult to see, so Jon had to cling to the walls of the castle, chasing the elusive Oni. They left behind a trail of shadow and blood before they came to a door, a door that Jon recognised._

  
_A maiden, with hair black as midnight and skin like the moon was dragged out of the room by the Oni. She tried her best to fight off the demons, but they were far stronger. Her cries echoed through the dark, cold halls, and Jon tried to help the maiden by attacking the Oni, but he merely passed through them like they were apparitions of smoke. But the maiden's screaming tore right through Jon's heart, and he felt helpless to stop them. _

  
_That was, until a low growling stopped the Oni from taking the maiden. At the end of the hall was a large white wolf with red eyes, its fangs bared in a silent snarl. The Oni paused, before releasing the girl and charging at the wolf with their swords raised. The wolf leaped forward and killed the closest Oni, then proceeded to tear through the rest of them like the savage beast it was. However, One of the Oni managed to pierce the wolf's side with its weapon, but the wolf completely ignored the wound as it ripped the demon's throat out. _

  
_When all the Oni were killed, it was just Jon, the maiden and the wolf left standing. The maiden rushed over to the injured beast and began to cry as the wolf collapsed to the ground, weakened from blood loss. At the same time, Jon felt his side was all wet, and he put a hand to it, feeling warm liquid. He looked down and pulled his hand away, then gasped at the sight of blood, warm and sticky on his palm and fingers._

  
Jon sat up out of his bed with a gasp, his eyes wide open. Quickly, he scrambled to check his side, only to find that there were no wounds or blood there. Sighing in relief, he lay back down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, but a deep feeling of uneasiness had settled over him. There was something about that dream, as well as the sense of foreboding afterwards that left Jon unsettled. He looked out of his window and saw that the sun was only just starting to set, and thought about it.

  
Jon could carry on and pretend like the dream was nothing by not telling anyone, and no one would be none the wiser for it. Or, he could tell someone, someone he trusted and have them either think he was mad, or they might actually take stock in his words. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to Jon to speak of such a thing to anyone, and if word got out of Jon's dreams, then everyone would start to think that he was going crazy. Heck, there were stories of Targaryens in the past who had based their whole lives on dreams they had. Jon himself was the product of a prophecy his own blood father believed in. 

  
But that feeling of dread would not leave, so Jon decided to go to one man who might at least hear him out. He climbed out of his bed, put his katana and wakizashi into his belt (he didn't have time to get dressed into his hakama) and left the bedroom. Nobody stopped Jon as he walked through the halls of Winterfell, being to preoccupied with their own work to pay him any mind. That was good, because, undisturbed, Jon made it to the other side of the keep in record time. 

  
Jon knocked on the door, then waited until he heard a voice bid him enter. Jon opened the door and came inside the room. The window shutters closed so that the only source of light were the candles that burned around the room, bathing everything in warm, orange light. There were drapes hanging from the walls, depicting colourful battles between Jeonsa and enemies to the Yi Ti Empire using a myriad of colours, like an artist had made them. Serpentine dragons with manes like lions and horns like antlers with no wings flew across the sky of the drapes, snarling down at the warring figures below.

  
Kneeling in the centre of the room was Hasashi. He was in his hakama, with his hair done up in a topknot as he usually did. Jon walked around his mentor before kneeling in front of him, then bowed his head slightly.

  
“_Is there a particular reason why you are not with Chaeyoung and Chizuru, helping with the preparations?_” asked Hasashi.

  
“_Yes sensei. Chae bid me to rest for tonight, so I retired to my room,_” answered Jon. Then he hesitated. “_I had a dream_,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

  
Hasashi opened his eyes and gave him an appraising look. “_About?_” he asked. 

  
“_I was in a castle, and there were people running everywhere,_” said Jon. “_A tower was on fire and I think everyone was trying to put it out before more damage could be done. But then I saw a group of demons sneak into the keep, so I followed them. They were trying to kidnap a girl, but a white wolf stopped and killed them, but it was hurt_.”

  
Hasashi stared blankly at Jon for a long time, though Jon could tell that his teacher was thinking deeply. 

  
“_The location, did you recognise it?_” he asked.

  
“_It was hard to make out any details except for the wolf and demons, but I think I was in Winterfell,_” said Jon. “_But the door that the demons came out of with the Oni, it looked almost exactly like Chae's._”

  
Hasashi's expression turned serious and he stood up so quickly and suddenly that it surprised Jon. The Orochi walked over to where his sword and armour were stationed on a stand atop a small, knee-high cabinet. Even though he had his own katana and wakizashi, Jon longed for the day when he would receive his own set of Jeonsa armour.

  
“_Have you had any other dreams like this?_” questioned Hasashi without looking at Jon.

  
“_No_,” started Jon, then amended, “_Well, not that particular kind of dream, but I have had others that have plagued me for years now_.”

  
“_Tell me about them_,” commanded Hasashi. 

  
“_Well, I have it almost every night since I was fourteen,_” began Jon. “_There is a maiden in a snowy forest, and she's cold. She's always running away from a demon made of ice, with a crown on his head and blue eyes that glow with death. The demon is always chasing the maiden, and she always trips and falls into the snow. But before the ice demon can catch her, she's rescued by three beasts that chase away the ice demon._

  
_“The beasts are a white wolf, the same white wolf from my other dream, a white dragon, and a black lion.”_

  
“_A black lion?_” interrupted Hasashi. He spun around and looked intensely at Jon. “_Describe it to me_.”

  
Jon wasn’t sure why Hasashi was so interested in the lion of all things, but he acquiesced anyway and said, “_It had black fur, silver stripes and eyes that glowed like the moon. It was also bigger than a normal lion. It was at least twice as tall as me_.”

  
“_And the maiden?_”

  
“_She was extremely beautiful, and her skin glowed like the sun.”_

  
Hasashi frowned before looking away from Jon. The younger man could see that his mentor's mind was trying to process this information, but again, he was curious as to why Hasashi had such a keen interest in the lion and the maiden of his dreams.

  
“_I believe the gods are trying to warn you of something Jon,_” Hasashi finally said.

  
That threw Jon off guard. “_Excuse me?_” he said.

  
“_Your description of the lion and the maiden are almost perfect matches to Yi Ti's Lion-of-Night and the Maiden-Made-Of-Light_,” continued Hasashi. “_They are clearly trying to tell you something through your dreams, and yet, I too am curious as to what it is they want from you of all people_.”

Jon remembered from his lessons about the Lion-of-Night and the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. They were the chief deities in YiTish culture, and it was through them that the God Emperors werebelieved to be decended from. But Jon thought that the Lion-of-Night was a man with a lion's head and not a full lion?

“_Do you understand what the dreams mean?_” asked Jon.

  
“_Not entirely_,” admitted Hasashi. “_However, it should not he hard to see that you are clearly the white wolf. It had red eyes, correct?”_

  
Jon nodded his head. Up until now he hadn’t thought that the wolf’s appearance was similar to Ghost, his direwolf pup. But it did make sense in a strange sort of way. 

  
“_However, I am no priest nor soothsayer, so I shall have to do more meditating on the matter_,” continued Hasashi in a slightly disappointed tone. Then he looked at Jon. “_And you need to go get ready for the feast. Hurry along now.”_

  
Jon knew by this point that arguing with Hasashi would get him nothing except a box on the ears, so he bowed and left the room. He pushed the thoughts of his dreams away then. Now was not the time to dwell on that, he had a feast and a dance to focus on.

* * *

Ned was nervous, he could admit that as the entire household all filed out of the castle and into one of the courtyards. The feast had gone off without too much drama which Ned was grateful for, though Robert had embarrassed himself by drunkenly groping at one of the serving wenches in front of his wife Cersei. Cersei, to her credit had taken it all in stride, but her pursed lips and glaring green eyes had made it obvious she was very displeased with her husband. The only other points of drama had been when Arya was taken out of the hall by Robb after throwing food at Sansa and his eldest daughter had fled the hall to change dresses, and when Ser Jaime had tried to goad Hasashi into a fight. Ned had not heard the Orochi's response, but whatever he had said and left the Kingslayer storming off in anger. 

  
Ned shook those thoughts from his head as he focussed on the courtyard. In the space of a few hours, the entire place had been converted into an impressive stage that was shaped in a semi-circle, with many chairs in front of it, enough for the entire Stark household plus the King's retinue to sit with room to spare. The decorations themselves were unlike anything Ned had ever seen before as well. Bright reds, greens, yellows and blues in swirling patterns not found anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms , depicting Yi Ti's beyond ancient history, from the merriest od feasts to the bloodiest of wars, with golden, serpentine lizards with red manes and antlers, with snarling faces and eyes that showed intelligence, even if they were only paintings. Candles encased in red lanterns made of paper and straw, with YiTish characters painted on that lit up the entire courtyard in orange light. To the side were some drums, as well as numerous other instruments with some servants dressed in traditional YiTish clothing that Ned recognised at the helm.

  
It seems like Jon and his friends are giving their all tonight, Ned thought to himself quietly. He also wondered where they got all the materials to make all this stuff, as well as the clothing. 

  
Ned was mesmerised by the scene as he took his place at the front with Cat, Robert and Cersei. He had been too busy with the other preparations for the King's arrival that he hadn't had time to have a look at what Jon and the YiTish had done to welcome the royal family. In fact, Ned didn't even know what role Jon was going to be playing in the performance, and he had no idea what to expect. 

  
“Where are Sansa and Arya,” muttered Cat as she looked around the courtyard. Ned had a look too and indeed, couldn't find any trace of his two daughters. 

  
“Have you seen your sisters?” he asked Robb, but his eldest son merely shrugged and shook his head.

  
_Boom, boom, boom._ The chattering died down in an instant when the servant on the drums began to beat his sticks against them slowly, creating a loud, deep beat.

  
_Boom. Boom, boom. Boom. Boom, boom,_ the beat went as it picked up speed and tempo, making Ned's chest vibrate. From the left hand side of the stage, the torches flared up with white light, drawing everyone's attention over to see a girl with a golden mask that resembled a monster over her face with long, dark hair and wearing silky, black and gold YiTish robes that hung loosely around her body. Behind her were several other dancers, all dressed in red YiTish robes. At first, Ned thought that the girl was Chaeyoung, but then when someone began playing a wind instrument, he saw the mentioned girl with the band playing what looked to be some kind of traditional YiTish flute. Ned quickly looked at the dancing girl. If she wasn't Chaeyoung, then who was she?

  
The masked girl was graceful, yet the dance was full of spinning and twisting her body in a complicated manner while the backup dancers were more fluid and simple in their movements. The beating of the drums, combined with the haunting wind instrument created a mystifying atmosphere that left all the audience gasping in wonder. Robert was sober enough to look on in awe of the performance, and Cersei had lost her sour expression as she too beheld the dance in front of her. 

  
From out of nowhere, the girl suddenly whipped out a white sash, while at the same time the torches on the right of the stage flashed brilliantly, taking everyone's attention away from the girl. There was another girl, and she was wearing a pure white mask resembling a woman's face and wearing blue and white robes with a hood to cover her hair. Her back up dancers wore loose clothing of red and white with blue bands on the loose sleeves. All of them , including the girl were holding a white sash in each hand, and together they began to spin them around in swirling patterns like the current of a river. This dance was less jerky than the first and more graceful, but no less impressive. 

  
Ned found himself in complete and utter awe of the performance in front of him. He had never in all his years seen anything like it, and he was completely captivated. The YiTish had gone all out with this in honour of a man they didn't even serve, and the servants of Ned's home were participating with a severe eagerness. But, he wondered when Jon would come. 

  
The girl in blue disappeared behind some of the other dancers, then rose above them like she was lounging upon their shoulders. She had lost the sashes in favour of a single, blood-red fan which she pointed in the direction of the centre of the stage, where a man in black robes and wearing a mask that resembled a snarling wolf's head was, holding a red fan of his own. 

  
If the other performances were impressive, they were nothing compared to this final act. The back up dancers to the man, who was clearly Jon had white fans of their own which they opened and closed while spinning them, creating wavelike motions and a border around him as he danced. Jon's dance was a combination of the first girl's sudden movements and the second's more fluid, and he spun and twisted the fan like it was his fancy sword Hasashi had given him for his eighteenth nameday, like an extension of his own arm. 

  
Though nobody in the audience but Ned and Cat knew the wolf-,asked man was their nephew, he had captivated everyone's attention in a way the other dancers had before. The entire Kingsguard, royal family, the Starks and all the servants and guards watching were staring at him in sheer wonder and awe. Even Prince Joffrey, who had appeared utterly bored was watching with keen interest and delight on his face. 

  
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the performance ended with strange, multi-coloured fires shot up from behind the stage and into the sky before exploding in a shower of sparks, followed by a loud boom. A few people screamed in fright at the deafening sound, and the Kingsguard rushed to surround the royal family, but Robert merely let out a booming laugh almost as loud as the strange fire in the sky.   
“What was that?!” the king asked with more laughter.

  
Hasashi appeared out of nowhere like a phantom and said, “We call them _Hanabi, _or fireworks, Your Grace. They are a special type of fire made using flammable powders and chemicals to create lights of various colours, used for celebrations and festivals in Yi Ti.”

  
“Well my dear friend, This was certainly something I won't be forgetting anytime soon!” laughed Robert.

  
Indeed, Ned, and possibly everyone else who saw the performance would never forget it either for the rest of their lives. But then he spied the two dancers who were not Jon, and he excused himself before following them. He came around the back of the makeshift stage to see that Jon had discarded of his mask, as well as...

  
“Sansa? Arya?!” exclaimed Ned in shock. His two daughters were wearing the clothing of the other two main performers, but they had removed their masks to reveal their faces. Sansa's hair was flowing like fire down her back, while Arya’s bun had come loose from all the dancing. But Ned was shocked. He knew that Jon had intended for the both of them to be a part of the performance, but he didn't expect the girls to be _that_ involved. 

  
“Hello Father,” said Arya with a cheeky grin. 

  
“I thought I had sent you to bed, and that you Sansa had gone to change dresses,” said Ned in a slightly accusing tone.

  
“I threw food and Sansa, because I knew that you would send me away from the feast, which gave me time to come out here and get ready,” explained Arya.

  
“And I used my ruined dress as an excuse to leave the feast early,” added Sansa.

  
Ned looked at his daughters through narrowed eyes. “So you planned that little bit of drama in the hall as a way to come out here?” he asked.  
Jon covered his laugh with a cough into the arm, and he was trying hard to fight his smile.

  
“You're not upset with us, are you Father?” asked Sansa. She looked a little upset herself, which reminded Ned of how much his eldest daughter worked to please others.

  
“No. If anything, I am extremely proud of the three of you,” he said. “You have pleased the entire royal family and our other guests far more than I could have imagined, and tonight will be the talk of the North, possibly even the Seven Kingdoms for years to come.”

  
Sansa instantly lit up at that, as did Arya. Jon managed to maintain his composure, but the gleam in his dark eyes revealed how pleased he was by Ned's words.

  
“Now go on, off to bed you two,” finished Ned. “You will need your rest after all that dancing.”

  
Arya and Sansa ran off together after giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek goodnight, leaving just Ned and Jon together.

  
“I have to go make sure Chae returns to her rooms safely,” said Jon, and he moved to leave, but Ned grabbed him by the arm to stop him. What Ned was about to say had been on his mind for a long time, actually since he had spoken with Jon and Chaeyoung in the Godswood a month prior, but only now had he found the time to speak the words aloud.

  
“You two are good for each other,” he said. When Jon stared at him in confusion, Ned added, “You and Chaeyoung. If she makes you happy, you should pursue it.”

  
Jon’s face lit up in understanding, and his cheeks turned beet red as he ducked his head. “I don't have the luxury of choosing who I love,” he said. 

  
“Why not?” asked Ned. “As far as the world knows, you are a bastard, and despite that stain you have far more freedom to choose who you want to be with than any lord or lady ever could wish for. So go for it.”

  
Jon looked like he wanted to agree so badly, but he sighed and shook his head.

  
“We can talk about it another time, my lord,” he said before walking away. 

  
“Hopefully we do,” said Ned quietly to himself. He, and just about everyone who knew Jon knew that he deserved so much more in his life than what had been allotted to him, but if only the boy could see that himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna see what I based Jon's performance off, go see BTS's MMA 2018 'Idol' intro performance. That shit bops hard man!
> 
> Also next chapter, we'll finally start getting into the juicy stuff!


	8. Swords and Broken Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I haven't been able to update this as much as I usually do, real life can be a pain in the backside a lot of the time but hopefully I'll be able to update regularly again.

The training yard was more full than usual due to the soldiers and Kingsguard who had come to accompany the king and his family. Ser Rodrik was doing a fine enough job of making sure that order was maintained, but unfortunately many of these Southron men seemed to think themselves superior to the soldiers of the North with their scoffing and quiet mocking. Jon, for the most part largely ignored the Southron mem as he practised his kata with his bokken to the side, away from most eyes. Hasashi was watching carefully, his arms crossed over his chest while next to him, Arya was fiddling with a dagger Chae had given her. Chae herself was sitting on top of a barrel, stitching an undershirt of Jon's as she hummed quietly to herself, a small smile on her face.

  
“Mind your footing,” growled out Hasashi. 

  
“Sorry sensei,” said Jon. He quickly righted his posture, earning an approving grunt from Hasashi. 

  
Just then, Chizuru came over to join them, dressed in her blue Jeonsa armour and a scowl on her face. Jon was about to stop, but a quick rap against his shoulder by Hasashi quickly helped him to continue his form.

  
“_The pretty man is coming_,” she spat out in annoyance.

  
“_Pretty man?_” questioned Chae as she looked up from her stitching with curiosity on her face. Jon himself had no idea who Chae was talking about, seeing as the only other person who'd been called a pretty man was himself by Robb and Theon. 

  
But then, Chae's question was answered when Ser Jaime Lannister approached in his golden armour and white cloak, a cocky smirk on his handsome face. Hasashi stiffened slightly and Chizuru moved so that she was between Chae and the Kingslayer in a casual, yet defensive position. Ser Jaime, for the most part looked utterly unfazed as he looked down on the others. Jon noticed that he was almost as tall as the knight, but leaner. 

  
“Good morning to you all,” greeted Ser Jaime in a friendly voice. 

  
“Good morning Ser,” said Jon. Arya waved casually while the three YiTish bowed their heads slightly in greeting.

  
“I must say, that last night's performance was quite the spectacle,” continued Ser Jaime, “I just wanted to say that I was most impressed by your people's culture and wanted to say thank you.” 

  
Despite the knight's obvious arrogance, Jon could not detect any insincerity in Ser Jaime's words. He seemed genuinely delighted to have seen the performance, though clearly he was not here to talk about a dance. And that was proven right when Ser Jaime continued speaking.

  
“I was hoping however, that I might further make your acquaintance Lord Hasashi by having a friendly sparring match,” he said. “I've heard tales from Lord Stark's soldiers that you are the best warrior in Winterfell and the North.”

  
“I am sure those tales are greatly exaggerated,” said Hasashi dismissively. Behind him, Arya snorted and Jon fought to keep the smile from his face. Anyone with sense knew that the Orochi could kill just about anyone alive in the North fairly easily, with the exception of Chizuru and Jon, but Jeonsa, and YiTish people in general were modest by nature.

  
“Perhaps, but I would like to spar with you regardless,” said Ser Jaime. “The only person who comes close to me is Ser Barristan Selmy, but sadly he was left behind in King's Landing,” he added with a dramatic sigh. 

  
“I shall consider your offer, but maybe another time,” said Hasashi. Then he looked at Jon. “Though perhaps my student would like to spar with you.”

  
Jon instantly felt the smile leave his face as he looked to his teacher incredulously. “I'm sorry?” he sputtered.

  
“You need to challenge yourself,” said Hasashi as if it were obvious. “I'm sure practising with a famed knight such as Ser Jaime Lannister will help you greatly.”

  
Jon looked at the other three for guidance, but Arya had an eager look on her face, while Chizuru nodded seriously at him, condoning Hasashi's suggestion. Chae looked a little worried, but she said nothing. 

  
Jon sighed and said, “Yes sensei,” before turning to face the knight and nodded. 

  
“Very well,” said Ser Jaime. Without another word, he spun on his heel and walked swiftly to the training yard. Jon followed, gripping his bokken in a reverse grip tightly while the others trailed behind. The sight of the Kingslayer and Bastard of Winterfell going into one of the yards together drew lots of attention as people gathered, including Prince Joffrey and Jon's family. 

  
Ser Jaime unclipped his sword belt after taking off his white cloak and went over to fetch one of the blunted tourney swords, which made Jon freeze in place. He'd never used steel in his training since becoming a Jeonsa, having relied on his bokken almost entirely for the past six years.

  
“What is the matter?” asked Ser Jaime.

  
“I don't use steel blades,” said Jon in a more meek voice than he intended. The Kingslayer laughed.

  
“And why is that?” he asked with a smug grin on his face. 

  
“Because steel should only be drawn if the intent is to kill. Otherwise, you are just damaging the blade for no reason,” called out Hasashi from the back. The Southron men all laughed at that and began to mock the Jeonsa and Jon, but Ser Jaime merely grinned.

  
“Very well then, I'll adhere to the traditions of your people,” he said. He tossed the tourney sword away carelessly and grabbed a wooden sword, then gave it a few expert twirls in his hand to get accustomed. Then, he readied himself as Jon did the same

.   
“Ready, begin!” declared Ser Rodrik. 

  
Jon and Ser Jaime circled each other for a long time, their eyes never leaving. Jon completely tuned out the calls and cheers of everyone outside of the ring as he focussed solely on the man in front of him, searching for a weakness. Ser Jaime was one of the most famous swordsmen alive, of a skill comparable to Ser Barristan Selmy and the other Kingsguard who had once served under Jon's grandfather Aerys Targaryen. So understandably Jon was a little intimidated to be facing the Lannister. But he'd spent the last six years fighting against Hasashi, so he was as frightened as other people were probably expecting him to be. 

  
Eventually Ser Jaime attacked first with an overhead slash that Jon was barely able to parry in time. The knight was strong and fast, but he was also trying to see what Jon was made of. That was the one advantage he had over Ser Jaime. Jon was an unknown entity, using a weapon and technique that the more experienced man was unfamiliar with. Jon pressed that advantage by delivering a few swift strikes at his opponent, which Ser Jaime blocked and parried easily. However, the man was clearly surprised by Jon's skill as the attacks continued, and he quickly lost his smug expression to a more determined look.

  
The courtyard was evenly divided in terms of supporters. The Southron company cheered for their golden-haired champion, while the men of the North and the YiTish women were loudly proclaimed their support for the dark-haired Jeonsa apprentice. The only one not openly cheering was Hasashi, who stood still as he watched the fight silently with keen eyes.

  
So far, the fight was evenly matched as neither Jon nor Ser Jaime gained or lost ground. Their attacks were constantly blocked, and while Jon did his best to remain calm, he knew at some point one of them was going to give way. 

  
Jon noticed something very quickly though. Ser Jaime seemed to favour his right side, his sword hand a little more than his left. To the untrained eye, one wouldn't have noticed but Jon had been taught to search for any and all weaknesses in an opponent. He also wondered how quickly Hasashi had picked up Ser Jaime's flaw. 

  
So, Jon feinted an attack to the right, which worked like a charm as Ser Jaime instantly brought his sword up to protect himself, but at the last second Jon twisted his sword into a reverse grip and slammed the pommel of the bokken into Ser Jaime's left side. Ser Jaime staggered backwards with a bewildered look on his face. There was a cheer from the Northmen as their warrior landed the first blow, and Jon saw that he had actually scraped some gold off the chestplate, marring the polished metal. He felt some satisfaction at having soiled the Kingslayer's perfect image, but he focussed again as Ser Jaime renewed the battle. 

  
Unfortunately Jon gave way when Ser Jaime attacked with the fury of a lion, his strikes harder and faster. Jon was barely able to maintain his stance before he was eventually overpowered, having been thrown off by the suddenness, and Ser Jaime disarmed him, ending the match. The Northmen all groaned as if they were the ones who had lost, and while the Southrons were pleased at Ser Jaime's victory, their cheers weren't as loud as Jon had predicted, as he had been the first one to land a blow. 

  
“You scratched my armour,” said Ser Jaime as he approached Jon. Jon thought he was going to be in trouble, but then the golden-haired man laughed and clapped him on the back.

  
“Very few men have been able to do that, let alone get close enough to me to be able to do such a thing,” continued Ser Jaime cheerfully. “Your master has taught you well bastard, I am sure you will make a fine warrior.” 

  
And with that, the knight walked back over to collect his sword and cape, then walked out of the yard, no doubt to perform his Kingsguard duties. Jon collected his bokken from out of the mud and cleaned it off with a rag which was offered to him by an excited Arya.

  
“That was amazing Jon! You lasted longer than anyone else against the Kingslayer!” she exclaimed happily.

  
Jon smiled at his cousin's enthusiasm, but he himself wasn't feeling the same joy as her. Actually, he was disappointed and annoyed that he had lost. A Jeonsa could not stand the shame of defeat, which was another reason why they never used live steel when training. Jon might be a native Westerosi, but he'd been trained and brought up in the culture of the Jeonsa, and thus their ways were his ways.

  
“Impressive work,” commented Chizuru. “It was a good breath of fresh air to seeing you lose in the yard for once against someone who is not Hasashi.”

  
Jon bowed his head, then faced his master. “What did I do wrong, sensei?” he asked.

  
“Your form was almost perfect, though you misplaced your footing a few times, and I don't need to tell you about your arrogance that cost you the match,” said Hasashi gruffly. Then he leaned in so that only Jon could hear and added, “And next time, go for his hand, he never guards it.”

  
Before Jon could question the Orochi further, he walked away back into the castle. Then Chae came over and grasped his hand, then gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  
“_Don't worry. The Lannister man has more experience than you, but in my opinion you were almost equal in skill,_” she said.

  
“_Almost equal? Are you implying that he was slightly better than me?_” replied Jon.

  
Chae gave a mischievous smile. “_Of course not. I meant that you are slightly better than him,_” she said teasingly.

  
Despite himself, Jon felt the corners of his mouth tilt upwards at Chae's teasing. He casually bumped his shoulder against hers, and felt his bad mood lift a little at the support of the woman before him. 

  
But that didn’t lessen Jon's desire to train harder than ever before. He needed to be the best warrior he could possibly be, he had to. 

* * *

Most of the men in Winterfell had gone into the Wolfswood with the king towards the end of the royal family's visit to the North on a hunt, leaving the great fortress quieter than it had been in a long time. However, Jon had chosen to remain at home with Chae so that he spend some time with her, which he had not done much of in the last month. 

  
They were sitting on the rock near the heart tree and pool of the Godswood in comfortable silence together. Jon was running a whetstone over the blade of his katana slowly, creating a low, ringing sound as the rock scraped across the metal that echoed through the sacred wood. Chae in the meantime was tuning the strings of her ruan, a traditional YiTish instrument that was one of the few things of her personal belongings to have survived the shipwreck all those years ago. Jon had rarely seen or heard her play the strange instrument, but she only ever did it in the Godswood.

  
Jon had not come to the Godswood as much as he used to since that vision of ice demons and fighting beasts. He avoided it when he could ass he no longer felt like the Old Gods welcomed him into their domain, unless he was accompanied by somebody else, preferably either his uncle or any one of the three YiTish. Of course he trained in here with Hasashi and Chizuru most days, but his focus on perfecting his art kept his mind from the warring feelings of his heart.

  
Chae however, loved the Godswood. She came here as often as she could, and while she still followed the gods of her homeland, she had adopted the ancient woods as place where she could worship freely and without judgement from the people of the North. Currently her hair was flowing free down past her back and shoulders, and though it was still mostly reddish-pink, the roots had started to grow out to reveal her natural black. Her kimono was dark green with navy-blue lining, and thick to protect her from the cool winds of the North. 

  
Jon had tied his hair back in a small bun to keep his vision free so that he could sharpen his blade correctly, and his focus was entirely on making sure his technique was perfect. He could understand why his lord uncle and Hasashi would sharpen their blades so often. Despite both their swords being made of Valyrian steel, a magical metal that never lost its edge and was far stronger and lighter than the best castle-forged steel, the methodical running of a blade up and down the blade was soothing for the soul and mind. 

  
“_What do you think of the royal family?_” asked Chae, pulling Jon from his quiet thoughts. He looked up to see the YiTish girl looking at him expectantly, but in her eyes he could see worry. What Chae was worried about was beyond Jon, but he figured it must have something to do with the king and his family.

  
“_They are... not what I expected,” said Jon quietly._

  
“_What were you expecting?_” asked Chae. 

  
“_Well, I'm more disappointed by the king than any of the others. I expected a mountain of a man wielding a giant warhammer like it was nothing, from the way my uncle spoke of how he fought on the Trident against my father_,” said Jon. “_Instead, we have a drunken fool of a man who's more interested in who's going to be in his bed every night other night instead of his own wife. The Kingslayer looks more like a king than-“_

  
Jon stopped speaking and shook his head. “_I shouldn't talk of the king like that. It's treasonous,_” he finished.

  
Chae nodded thoughtfully, but she didn't look satisfied with Jon's answer.

  
“_And what about his wife and children?_” she pressed. 

  
“_I have not seen enough of the queen to make an assessment of her, but the two youngest children seem sweet,_” said Jon.

  
“_And the crown prince?_”

  
Jon looked at Chae with concern. “_Why the sudden interest in our guests?_” he asked. When Chae didn't meet his eye he shuffled around so that he was directly facing her. “_Chae? What happened?”_

  
“Nothing, I just-“ began Chae, then she paused and sighed. “The princess wants me to accompany her to King's Landing to act as one of her handmaidens.”

  
Jon felt himself stiffen slightly. Princess Myrcella asked Chae to go to King's Landing? Alone?

  
“_And what did you say?_” he asked slowly.

  
“_I haven't said yes yet, if that is what you are wondering_,” said Chae. 

  
“_But you are considering it,”_ guessed Jon.

  
“_Actually, I wanted to know what you think before I make a decision_,” replied Chae.

  
Jon thought about it for a moment. If the capital of the Seven Kingdoms wasn't the viper's nest like Lord Stark claimed it to be, he wouldn't have minded if Chae went to visit for a little while. But King's Landing was so far away, and Jon could never go there while the Baratheons and the Lannisters were in power. If they were to find out who he really was, they'd kill him. And Chae being a foreigner would stick out like a sore thumb and become a target in the game of thrones his uncle so despised. 

  
“_I think it's dangerous to go,_” Jon said slowly. “_People would take notice of you and either kill you or try to use you to get closer to the princess in order to reach for their ambitions_.”

  
“_So you don't want me to go?_” said Chae.

  
“_If it was a safe place, then I would have encouraged you go see as much of the Seven Kingdoms as possible_,” said Jon. The dream of the Oni trying to take the maiden came into his mind, but he ignored it and took Chae’s hands in his after sheathing his sword. 

  
“_If I could, I would go with you myself to whatever destination crossed your mind_,” he said solemnly. “_But the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are not like the North. They do not value honour as yours or my people do. They would do anything to achieve more power, and they would take advantage of one unfamiliar of our customs and traditions such as you._”

  
“_I understand_,” said Chae. The way they were sitting had Jon looking up at her, and he could see that her fears had been put to rest by his words.

  
“_I also don't think I am ready to be parted from your company just yet_,” added Jon with a small, cheeky smile which made Chae grin.

  
“_I don't think I am ready for that either_,” she echoed. 

  
Jon felt his heart stir at Chae's words, and his gaze drifted down to her soft, pink lips. He'd spent years wondering what they would feel like against his own, and what she tasted like. He leant in slightly, and Chae did the same thing. He heard her breath catch slightly, which only strengthened Jon's resolve.

  
But the moment was shattered when a blood-curdling scream echoed through the Godswood, making Jon jump up and draw his katana on instinct and position himself in front of Chae protectively. He was a little annoyed that he didn't get the chance to kiss Chae, but whoever was making that noise sounded like they were in a dire situation. It sounded like the scream came from outside the Godswood, so Jon and Chae left to find the source of the noise. 

  
They found it in the form of Lady Stark clutching the lifeless form of Bran at the foot of the Broken Tower, who looked to be unconscious with his legs splayed at horrific angles. There was blood coming from the back of his head, staining Lady Stark's dress. Jon felt his legs lock into place as he saw his little cousin looking as if he were dead, while Chae gasped and rushed over to help. Maester Luwin ran past Jon to check on Bran, and the rest of the courtyard burst into chaos. 

  
Jon looked up at the tower. Bran had climbed this particular building countless times in the past. Did his luck finally run out? Or was there something else to it? 

  
A vision of a lion and a lioness on top of a mountain swam into view, but Jon shook his head to remove the image. Now was not the time for his delusions, his cousin needed help!

  
Jon sheathed his sword and with Maester Luwin and a few of the guards' help, carefully lifted Bran up and carried him inside to be tended to, leaving Chae to comfort the still screaming Lady Stark.   



	9. the Princess of Yi Ti

A dull gloom had settled over Winterfell that had nothing to do with the chilly weather. Everyone felt it, and the constant howling of the direwolves did not make things any easier. 

  
Bran had not woken up in weeks, remaining in a comatose state ever since his fall. Maester Luwin was not sure if the second-youngest Stark would ever awaken, but if he did there was bound to be some kind of permanent damage to the boy, whether it was of the body or mind had yet to be determined. Lady Stark spent every hour at her son's side, completely neglectful of her responsibilities as Lady of Winterfell. She had fallen into an almost-catatonic state, ignorant of everything around her except for her son.

  
Lord Stark, Sansa and Arya had long since left with Robert Baratheon back to King's Landing, where Lord Stark would begin his duties as Hand of the King. That left Robb as acting Lord of Winterfell, and from Jon had seen so far, he was doing a very good job of it. However, the young lord was often lost in some of his duties, and were it not for the counsel given to him by Maester Luwin, Hasashi and Chizuru, he might have crumbled under the pressure of everything. Robb's mother had lost all interest in anything that didn't concern Bran and never left his room, which was making Robb frustrated that she wasn't taking care of her other children, in particular Rickon who was often crying out for somebody's attention.

  
Thankfully, Chae had filled the role of Rickon's babysitter marvellously, and she was often seen with the youngest Stark, chasing him and his black direwolf Shaggydog all throughout the castle. Jon tried his best to remain at her side, but his time was divided between standing with his cousin and her. He couldn't be in two places at once, and though his heart wished to be with Chae, he knew that for the moment, his duty was to be Robb's support until Lady Stark came out of her depression. Besides, either Hasashi or Chizuru were always with Chae, so she was safe.

  
But other than that, life in Winterfell had returned to normal, or as normal as it could be seeing as half of the Starks and their household had gone south with their lord. Maester Luwin continued to teach his lessons when he wasn't tending to Bran and Lady Stark, Ser Rodrik continued running the drills in the training yards, and Mikken continued making weapons and armour in the forges.

  
Though, Jon noticed that Hasashi was seen inside the blacksmith's shop more often than usual, but he never divulged any information to his pupil as to why. That left Jon feeling even more curious, as the Orochi rarely hid things from him. Even Chizuru wouldn't tell him, which was even stranger. And apparently, Chae claimed to not know, though her smirk had been a definite sign that she knew exactly what was going on.   
However, none of that mattered one day when everything went to hell. 

  
Ever since Jon woke up one particular morning, nearly a month after the king had left Winterfell, he'd had an uneasy feeling in his heart. If he didn't know any better, he thought that something bad was going to happen, and soon. Jon performed his daily labours just as he had every day before, only he was slightly distracted by that same feeling.

  
“What is it Jon?” asked Robb as the two of them sat in the Lord's solar going through letters from people around the North. Jon was half-heartedly reading through a complaint by Lord Umber about more wildling raids in his lands for what must have been the third or fourth time when he looked up at his cousin.

  
“It's nothing,” said Jon.

  
“It doesn't look like nothing, you’ve been staring at the same letter for ten minutes now,” pointed out Robb.

  
Jon sighed, dropped the letter and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I just feel uneasy, is all,” he admitted.

  
“Lady trouble?” asked Robb.

  
Jon quickly looked up in surprise. “What? No, it's got nothing to do with that!” he exclaimed.

  
Robb chuckled quietly and shook his head. “For one taught by a Jeonsa to be aware of everything, you are pretty clueless about Chaeyoung,” he said.

  
_Where was this coming from?_ Thought Jon.

  
“What has Chae got to do with anything?” he asked.

  
Robb shook his head and put his ink quill down. “Jon, you realise you have an opportunity to marry Chaeyoung if you wanted to, right?”

  
“Excuse me?” spluttered Jon.

  
“You and Chaeyoung. It's obvious to everyone with eyes and ears that you are in love with her,” said Robb.

  
Jon felt his cheeks start to heat up, but he remained still as a stone. He'd always been better at hiding things than his relatives and friends, but he never thought he'd been that obvious about how much he cared for Chae.

  
“What makes you think I'm in love with her?” he asked cautiously, his earlier worry temporarily forgotten. 

  
“It's the way you look at her,” explained Robb. When Jon didn't react, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You look at her the same way I see Father looking at my mother when she's not looking. It's the same way I see many of the smallfolk, and none of the other lords and ladies I've met look at their spouses. Like one is the other's whole world. And Chaeyoung looks at you the same way, by the way.”

  
Jon sighed and bowed his head. He'd suspected for a long time that Chae reciprocated his feelings, but what could either of them do about it?

  
“It would never work out,” he said in a resigned tone.

  
“Why not?” asked Robb challengingly.

  
“Because I have nothing to offer her. I have no lands, no titles or anything, just my blade and the clothes off my back,” said Jon. 

  
“She had less when you found her on those rocks,” pointed out Robb. Then, ye leaned forward and quietly added, “Besides, you don't have nothing. You're the heir to the Iron Throne.”

  
Jon glared at his cousin, but the redhead ignored him as he continued. 

  
“If you wanted to press your claim, I would be the first to swear fealty to you Jon. And even if you don't decide on that, I'd support you no matter what decision you make. And besides, Chaeyoung knows who you truly are, but she cared for you before she found out about your parents. Seven Hells, I'm willing to bet that she'd go to the Wall and back for you stark naked if you asked her to, and I'm willing to bet you would do the same!”

  
“But still...” began Jon.

  
“I heard my mother discussing with Father not long ago about the possibility of legitimising you as a Stark and giving you lands, probably Moat Cailin or somewhere in the Gift,” continued Robb as if Jon hadn't spoken. “Mother even said about organising a betrothal between you and Chaeyoung and starting your own House if you wanted to. Do you want that?”

  
That threw Jon off guard. Lady Stark had wanted him to be legitimised and give him lands as well as a marriage between himself and Chae? He didn't know how to feel about that. But he couldn't stop the image of him and Chae looking down into a courtyard from a balcony, watching children with dark hair, fair skin and eyes like Chae chasing each other with wooden swords, screaming at the top of their lungs with joy. 

  
Before Jon could say anything to Robb, outside, a bell began to ring followed quickly by shouts and screaming.

  
“What the?” said Robb.

  
A servant burst into the room then, out of breath and a wild look in his eyes.

  
“My lords! The Library Tower... it is burning!” shouted the servant.

  
Jon and Robb both immediately stood up and sprinted out of the solar and outside, where indeed the Library Tower was on fire. Servants and guards were rushing to and fro with buckets if water, attempting to put out the fire before it spread. Robb started to bark out orders to his men, and Jon made to follow, but that dark feeling returned, stronger than ever.

  
Look, said a voice in Jon's mind, and he looked over towards the main keep in time to see a shadow slip unseen inside. Jon felt compelled to follow the shadow instead of assisting with putting out the fire, so he went into the keep. It was quiet inside, almost too quiet. Everyone must have been outside helping with the fire, but Jon knew that something was amiss as he followed the strange sensation that was leading him through the keep, towards the living quarters. More specifically, where the YiTish lived. 

  
A strange sense of Deja vu came over Jon as he heard muffled screaming and the sound of furniture being knocked over. Jon's hand immediately went to his katana and gripped the pommel, and he drew it at the same time as the door to Chae's room burst open. Only, Chae wasn't alone.

  
She was surrounded by seven men shorter than Jon and wearing black clothing that resembled a hakama slightly, but they had leather wrist braces and straight-bladed swords that resembled katana, only slightly shorter strapped over their backs. Their faces were hidden by black cowls, and the skin around their eyes had been painted black to further conceal their identities. Jon could see that besides the swords on their backs, a few of them had other weapons, from daggers, kunai, shuriken and one of them even had knuckle busters that ended in razor-sharp claws like a bear. 

  
“Jon!” screamed Chae as she struggled against the grip of one of the men.

  
They were clearly YiTish based on their appearance and weaponry, and looked to be some kind of assassin or mercenary, but what were they doing here? 

  
Jon didn't care who they were or why they were in the North, he only cared that they were trying to take Chae away. So he twirled his katana, pushing back the nerves and fear he was feeling and readied his stance.

  
“_This filthy foreigner mocks our ways_,” spat one of the mercenaries, “_Kill him!_”

  
Two of the mercenaries rushed forward, swords raised and struck at Jon. However, he was ready and parried both attacks. The mercenaries were fast and ruthless as they did not let up, but Jon's training came to him like second nature as he fought them off. He succeeded in kicking away one of the assassins, and while the other was distracted, Jon stabbed him through the chest with his katana. The mercenary grunted, but he died quickly, and when Jon pulled his sword out, the man slumped to the ground dead.

  
Jon didn't have time to think about the fact that the man was his very first kill before he was assailed again. They were fighting like demons, and in the narrow corridor it was difficult for Jon to manoeuvre around the black-clothed men effectively. When he was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed at being attacked from multiple angles, he unsheathed his wakizashi and held it in his left hand. 

  
With his extra blade, it was easier to repel his attacker, and eventually Jon managed to cut two more down before he felt a pain in his left shoulder which made him drop his wakizashi. He looked down to see that a kunai had been thrown at him, but the short blade had missed any vital parts, though it still hurt. In anger, Jon ripped out the small blade and held it in his left hand in a reverse grip, and when the fourth was disarmed, he buried the blade into the man's forehead, spurting blood everywhere.

  
The last three mercenaries were a lot more wary of Jon after seeing him cut down four of their brethren, and they kept their distance. The one that was holding Chae threw her behind him against the wall and drew his sword, his dark eyes full of anger and hate. Jon flicked his katana slightly, throwing some of the blood off of it and readied his stance, but then he paused.

  
Chae was sitting back up from where she had been thrown, and she was clutching something that glimmered in the torchlight. It was one of the hidden daggers she kept on her person, and she gave a small, determined nod at Jon. Jon frowned, but he said nothing as he turned his gaze back to the mercenaries. Their focus was entirely on him as they deemed him to be the far greater threat..

  
Suddenly Chae lunged forward with her dagger and stabbed the closest man in the back. The man screamed and fell onto his stomach, then twitched slightly before growing still. The other two mercenaries were too shocked at Chae's attack to be prepared for when Jon came at them, and he swiftly killed them both without much resistance. Chae then practically jumped over the bodies of the dead mercenaries and wrapped her arms around Jon's neck tightly and began sobbing into his shoulder.

  
Jon held her with one arm around her waist, pulling her in as closely as he could as she continued to cry. 

  
“It's okay, you're fine,” he whispered soothingly. His left shoulder was hurting immensely, but he didn't care at this point. Chae had almost been taken from him. 

  
But then, Jon heard movement and a low grunt, and he saw the mercenary that Chae had stabbed get up slowly, the dagger still imbedded in his back. His cowl had come loose, revealing distinct YiTish features and a long ugly scar that went diagonally across his face from his left temple down to the right side of his jaw. He charged with a kunai in one hand and his sword in the other, and Jon reflexively pushed Chae to the side to protect her.

  
Despite the fact that the mercenary was clearly dying, he fought like a demon possessed as he tried to kill Jon. Jon was a little surprised at his opponent's tenacity but held his own. The mercenary spun around and kicked Jon in the gut, sending him stumbling back. He recovered quickly just as the man came at him, and stabbed him right through the heart with his katana, and at the same time felt a stinging sensation in his side. The light in the man's eyes died as he crumpled to the ground, and Jon staggered back as he felt the pain in his side grow worse.

  
Chae screamed, and Jon looked down to see that the mercenary's kunai was sticking out of his right side. He felt his head grow light and the room began to sway in his vision, and the last thing he recalled was the feeling of someone grabbing him as darkness claimed him.

* * *

Jon woke up in his room tired and groggy, and his vision was a little blurry when he opened his eyes. He was subconsciously aware that there were other people in his room with him, but he wasn't sure who they were. What he was very aware of, however, was the intense pain in his side and shoulder, and he groaned when the pain hit him full force. 

  
“Get the maester, Jon's awake,” said a feminine, accented voice that Jon recognised.

  
“Chae?” he called out in a croaky voice, hoarse from lack of use. 

  
Chae's beautiful face came into his view and she offered him a sad smile. “Hello Jon,” she said. 

  
Jon couldn't help but smile at her, which earned a snort from somebody else in the room. To Jon's utter lack of surprise, it was Robb, who was leaning against the stone wall with his arms folded across his broad chest and a wry smirk on his face. 

  
“Welcome back to the land of the living brother,” he said, that damned smile never leaving his face. Just then, Maester Luwin appeared with a relieved look on his face. 

  
“I'm glad to see you awake again Jon,” remarked the elderly maester warmly.

  
“What happened?” asked Jon groggily.

  
“You passed out from blood loss after rescuing Chaeyoung from those... men. You’ve been asleep for two days,” said Robb. His smile faded slightly as he looked as if he was recalling what had happened.

  
“The dagger did not pierce anything vital, but it was deep enough to cause some issues,” said Maester Luwin. “You won't be in the yard for the next few weeks, I am afraid.”

  
Jon groaned as he sank back into his bed and looked up at the ceiling. He heard Chae sigh in exasperation, but he said nothing. He couldn't train for a few weeks until he was better? Well, on the plus side, at least he wasn't dead.

  
“I need you to sit up Jon so I can check your bandages,” said Maester Luwin. Jon complied, albeit a little slowly because of the pain in his side. Maester Luwin and Chae helped him up to a more comfortable sitting position, and the maester began checking the bandages around his waist and shoulder.

  
“Who were those men who tried to kidnap you?” he asked Chae. Chae's skin went white as a sheet, a strange reaction to Jon, which meant that there was more to the situation then he knew.

  
Before Chae could answer, the door opened, and into the room stepped Chizuru and Hasashi. Neither one of them spoke when they entered, though Chizuru did offer Jon a slight nod of acknowledgement as she stepped to stand behind where Chae was seated. Hasashi’s expression was blank, but Jon had known the man long enough to detect the concern in his eyes. 

  
“Jon, we just wanted to thank you for protecting Chaeyoung when we couldn't,” said Chizuru with a grateful voice. “Had she been taken, we would have failed our duties and been forced to perform _seppuku_ in order to preserve our honour.”

  
Seppuku was a tradition upheld by the Jeonsa where if they either suffered defeat at the hands of their enemies or failed in any of their other important duties, they would kill themselves by stabbing and disembowelling themselves. It was one of the stranger customs of a Jeonsa that Jon had trouble wrapping his head around. 

  
“Speaking of those men, who were they?” asked Robb. “It is no coincidence that they came to take Chaeyoung at the same time a catspaw attempted to murder my mother and brother.”

  
“Wait, what?” exclaimed Jon in surprise. He didn't anything about that! 

  
Chizuru and Hasashi shared an uneasy look with each other, while Chae stiffened in her chair at Jon's side. 

  
“My lord, if it is well with you, I would ask that Maester Luwin please leave the room,” said Hasashi.

  
Robb nodded, and without argument, Maester Luwin left the room after giving Jon strict instructions to take it easy. Once the door was closed Jon rounded on his cousin.

  
“What happened to Bran and Lady Stark?” he asked.

  
“The fire was a distraction for a catspaw to sneak into the castle to murder Bran. Unfortunately for the man, he didn't take into account that Mother would be there with him, as well as Bran's direwolf,” said Robb. “Oh, Bran is awake now, but he has lost the use of his legs.”

  
Jon felt relief that Bran was now awake, but was also saddened to hear that he would never walk again.

  
“Was anyone hurt?” he asked.

  
“Mother’s hands were injured while trying to fight off the catspaw, and she is currently under milk of the poppy to keep her sedated,” said Robb. “The catspaw is dead however. Bran's wolf killed him.”

  
“And the men I killed?”

  
This time, Hasashi stepped forward. “I believe it is time we revealed who we truly are and why we came to Westeros,” he said in a grave tone. “It will help you to understand who those men were and why they specifically targeted Chaeyoung.”

  
“We are not just any Jeonsa guarding a girl,” said Chizuru. “I am the Daimyo of House Chizuru, and it is from my people that many of the Emperor's elite guards are selected. And Hasashi is known by two titles. The first being Leng's Champion...”

  
“And the second is the Emperor's Blade,” said Hasashi. “I directly serve the Emperor and his family, with a special charge to protect his only daughter.” 

  
“His only daughter? Then who-?” Jon stopped speaking abruptly, and looked at Chae, who was ducking her head in shame. 

  
All the pieces clicked together for Jon right then. Hasashi was Yi Ti's greatest warrior, and Chizuru's clan served directly under the Emperor. They had fled their homeland to the North, with a girl they had sworn to protect.

  
“Chae's the Princess of Yi Ti?!” blurted out Jon. 

  
Robb's eyes widened as he stood straight, his arms falling to his sides. Chae's face burned bright red, while Hasashi took on a grim look and Chizuru merely looked resigned. 

  
“Yes, she is the only daughter of the God-Emperor of Yi Ti,” said Hasashi. 

  
“Then, why were those men after her?” asked Robb. “And if she's a princess, why did you flee to Westeros with her?”

  
“My mother died giving birth to me,” said Chae, speaking finally. The entire room fell silent as she began her tale. “My father never remarried because he loved my mother too much to dishonour her memory, which is a strange thing in our culture as many of the previous emperors are known to take on dozens of wives and concubines. But he wished to protect me at any cost, so he assigned Master Hasashi to be my personal guardian at the expense of losing his best warrior to protect himself. And for a time, my life was good. I had everything I ever wanted and needed, and I felt loved.

  
“But when I turned twelve and flowered as a woman, many of my father's lords came seeking my hand for either their own or their sons' marriage. My father, despite the love he had for both myself and my mother, knew that I had a responsibility as his heir to eventually find a husband, but he chose the worse man possible.”

  
“Seijuro,” spat Chizuru in disgust. 

  
Chae nodded her head at the older woman. “Seijuro Sheng is one of the most powerful Daimyo in all of Yi Ti, but also the most ambitious and evil. There are rumours that he practises dark magic, and keeps a witch at his side as his advisor as well as a personal hunter and assassin,” she said.

  
“Seijuro is a disgrace to the Jeonsa order. No man with any real sense of honour would allow himself to be seen with the likes of witches and sorcerers,” said Hasashi with contempt. Then he added a little more reluctantly, “But he is a talented swordsman. He could probably put up a decent fight against me.”

  
“Let me guess, because you did not want to be married to this Seijuro person, you ran away from home,” said Robb. 

  
Chae nodded her head. “My father wanted to form an alliance with Seijuro because he commands the largest and most powerful clan in the entire empire, and many of the Jeonsa he commands are some of the finest warriors in the world,” she said. 

  
“That's debatable,” Chizuru grumbled quietly. 

  
“But I did not wish to marry a man who I would not love, so I, along with Master Hasashi, Lady Chizuru and twenty other men sailed as far west from Yi Ti as we could until we arrived in your lands, the North,” continued Chae.

  
“We had hoped that being as far away as we are, no one would think to look for us here,” said Hasashi. “But the other night's events indicate otherwise.”

  
“Who were those men then? Sellswords?” asked Robb.

  
“In your tongue they might be called that, but in Yi Ti we know them as _Geulimja_, or assassins,” said Hasashi. “They must have been here waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.” 

  
“But where were they hiding? Surely someone would have spotted them,” said Jon.

  
Chizuru shook her head. “No, Geulimja are master of deception and hiding. They would have found a way to remain unseen from the smallfolk and guards," she said.

  
“Who sent them?” asked Robb.

  
“Seijuro is the most likely candidate,” said Hasashi. “The Geulimja were supposed to have been disbanded years ago by the Emperor, but the rumours surrounding Seijuro make him the most likely candidate.”

  
The room fell silent for a long time, during which Jon thought about everything that had been revealed. For six years, Winterfell had been secretly housing the heir to the oldest civilization in the world without even realising it. That mean that there was not one, but two royals living in the North. And Chae was running from an unhappy betrothal and a man by all accounts sounded like he belonged in one of Old Nan's stories, with only two Jeonsa to protect her.

  
And the events of the other night happened almost exactly the same as the dream he had the night the king came to the North, right down to the injured wolf. Jon assumed that he was the white wolf in the dream, and the Oni were the Geulimja. The maiden must have been Chae then. But the fact the dream turned out to be a premonition only worried Jon more, because if that dream came true, then what about the other dreams he regularly had? Were they visions of the future as well?

  
Jon looked over to Chae, who was staring back at him with apprehension, like she was wary that he woukd reject Her because of her revealed story. But he reached out and took her hand, then gave it a light squeeze. That was all the confirmation Chae needed to know that Jon's feelings and opinion of her had not changed. 

  
Suddenly Jon felt drowsy as his strength had not come back to what it once was, and all the talking and information he had received had left him weary. His eyes fluttered closed, and he did not hear what Robb said before he fell into sweet oblivion again.


	10. The Third Jeonsa

It was a slow recovery for Jon from his injuries. He was declared fit enough to leave his room after almost a week trapped in his bed with no one to keep him company, though Chae and Robb had visited when they could. Hasashi had not visited once, but Chae had informed him that he had been investigating how the Geulimja had managed to find her all the way out in the North. The Orochi had deduced that the assassins, while talented, had been sloppy in letting their superiors know where they were and what they were doing, as he had found on one of the bodies a letter detailing everything about their reports in the Seven Kingdoms, but it had never been sent. That meant that the YiTish of the North could rest easy, for now at least.

  
Despite being allowed onto his feet, Maester Luwin had given Jon strict instructions to not push himself physically too much in case his stitches ripped open. Jon was too weak to do much anyway, and he was still so heavily bandaged that breathing was difficult sometimes and he couldn’t move around as much. That meant no going into the training yards, no running after Rickon or Ghost, even walks with Chae left him exhausted. 

  
The only thing Jon could do was help Robb with writing letters to the other lords of the North, sitting with him during council meetings and brushing up on studying his YiTish language and history. Occasionally he would help Lady Stark with assisting Bran into his new life, which left him often feeling miserable afterwards at seeing his cousin's fateful predicament. It reminded Jon that even though he'd been stabbed twice, at least he knew he would fully recover from his injuries. Bran would never walk again in his life. 

  
Eventually, after weeks and weeks of doing almost nothing, Maester Luwin allowed Jon to begin training again, which he took to with enthusiasm. However, his first session with Hasashi proved to be embarrassing for him. Very quickly, he realised how unfit he had become when not even twenty seconds into trading blows with his teacher, Jon found himself gasping for air and a deep cramp in his side. He tried to fight through the pain and fatigue, but when he was disarmed for the fifth time, Hasashi stopped.

  
“Your stance and technique are fine, you just lack the stamina to keep up,” informed Hasashi.

  
“I... can do... it!” wheezed Jon as he fumbled to pick up his bokken. If Arya saw him now, she'd be laughing like a maniac at him. 

  
“No, you can't,” said Hasashi firmly. Then he glanced around the Godswood. “I have an idea. For the next two weeks, you will run the perimeter of these woods every day until you are fit enough. Then, you will run the perimeter of Winterfell every day until I deem you well enough to resume our training sessions. Am I clear?”

  
“Yes sensei,” breathed out Jon.

  
Hasashi gave an approving nod. “Good, then get started now,” he said before turning and walking away.

  
“Now?!” exclaimed Jon as he looked to his teacher incredulously.

  
Hasashi looked over his shoulder and smirked in response. 

  
For the most part, life in the North continued as normal. However, Lady Stark, along with Ser Rodrik left for the capital when they received information that the Lannisters were involved in Bran's fall, and she wished to warn her husband in person about her suspicions, leaving Robb to run the castle by himself. Well, not by himself, he still had Robb, Theon and Maester Luwin, but it was a little different without his mother's guidance. 

  
Then, everything went to hell. A raven came from King's Landing, declaring Ned Stark as a traitor and had been arrested for attempting to usurp the throne and was awaiting trial, after having sent ravens out to every kingdom on the continent declaring Joffrey and his siblings as the results of an incestuous relationship between the Queen and her brother. Lady Stark had been visiting her sister Lysa in the Vale at the time the news reached her, but she was now on her way back to Winterfell after hearing the news. Robb had called the banners, and all the lords of the North were flocking to Winterfell where they would discuss what needed to be done.

  
It only took a few weeks before all the lords of the North had gathered to the seat of House Stark. A feast had been organised to keep the men happy and drunk, because though this night was a night of festivities and merriment, tomorrow the work would begin. Bran and Rickon were already down in the hall, along with Chae and the two Jeonsa, but Robb had wanted to speak with Jon privately. Robb pulled the dark-haired man into a room off to the side of the great hall that was empty and barred the door.

  
“What is going on Robb?” asked Jon.

  
Robb let out a deep sigh and said, “War is coming. We haven't outright spoken about it yet but it's inevitable. The North will never forget the slight Joffrey has made against House Stark for arresting Father.”

  
“The North remembers,” muttered Jon quietly. Robb nodded his head.

  
“Rebellion is coming,” he said. “The North won't swear fealty to a king who has slighted them, but they might follow someone else. A man raised in the North.”

  
“Do you plan on restoring the Starks as the Kings of Winter?” japed Jon. However, his smile vanished when he took in Robb's words and the meaningful look he was giving him. Jon felt his eyes widen and he stepped back, accidentally colliding with the table behind him.

  
“You- are you mad?!” hissed Jon. 

  
“Maybe, but you would make a good king,” said Robb seriously. “Or at least a better king than the little shit currently sitting on the Iron Throne.”

  
“Robb, your father fought a war to rid my father's family from power,” said Jon lowly.

  
However, Robb shook his head. “No, he fought to get his sister back from a supposed kidnapper and rapist, which turned out to be entirely wrong,” corrected Robb. 

  
Jon opened his mouth to fire off a retort, but then he closed it and shook his head vehemently.

  
“I don't want that blasted throne or anything to do with it,” he insisted quietly. He really didn't, but that blasted dream he had most nights of the white wolf joining the fight between the grey wolf and the lion came to his mind. What did they mean? He'd come to terms with the fact that his dreams might be visions of the future since the Geulimja tried to kidnap Chae, but that didn't mean he understood all the symbolism in every vision.

  
“You would make a good king,” insisted Robb.

  
“I said, _I don't want it_,” said Jon in a low, angry voice that he rarely used on his cousin. 

  
“Okay, fine then,” said Robb, backing off slightly when he senses Jon's ire. “But just so you know, I will support you no matter what you choose.” 

  
Jon nodded his head grimly, but he said no more. Robb frowned slightly, but shrugged and turned back to leave the room so he could join the feast, Jon following closely behind.

  
As the feast began in earnest with the arrival of the Heir to the North, Jon watched everything with a wary eye. Men were drinking and laughing, Ghost, Grey Wind and Summer were slinking under the tables, gobbling up the abundance of food that fell to onto the ground from the revelling Northmen, and in the meantime, Robb was getting into a heated discussion with the Greatjon Umber. Theon looked on warily, as did Bran, but Jon's attention was on Chae, who was seated on the opposite side of the table a few chairs down. Hasashi and Chizuru were sitting on either side, neither one of the three of them partaking in the riotous feasting and drinking. The two Jeonsa's eyes wandered around the hall, keeping a wary eye on everything in case someone endangered their princess.

  
Chae was a princess, and Jon still had a hard time getting used to that. Of course, looking back he should have seen the signs. She was well versed in her letters, had impeccable manners and conducted herself in a way only a noblewoman did. But at the same time Jon had learned that every class of woman in Yi Ti, from the princess to the lowest of peasants were taught how to behave in much the same way. 

  
Most of the lords and ladies of the North ignored the three foreigners, though a few of the more friendly ones such as Maege Mormont went out their way to greet them. Chizuru in particular got along well with the women of Bear Island, which wasn't surprising given that the Mormont women were said to have been born with axes and swords in their hands, and Chizuru was a Jeonsa. Chae was largely ignored by everyone else though, her beauty and standoffish demeanour to strangers natural deterrents to those not close to her. 

  
Chae wasn't naturally cold to people, only those she either didn't know or trust. Once she got to know a person however, she was bright, bubbly and had a tendency to laugh so much that one could help but laugh with her. She truly was lovely, Jon thought to himself.

  
He was ripped out of his thoughts when the Greatjon suddenly stood up, throwing his chair behind him and drawing his sword while glaring at Robb. Jon must have been totally distracted, or he wasn't as healed as he thought he was because he had no idea why the Greatjon was so furious. However, Grey Wind leaped onto the table, jumped onto the Greatjon and clamped his jaws down on the man's thick fingers. The Lord of Last Hearth let out a bellowing scream as the direwolf ripped the last two fingers of his left hand before running back to Robb's feet.

  
Theon had jumped up with his sword in his hand, but Robb maintained a cool expression Jon saw often on Ned Stark's face, one that commanded loyalty and respect. He made a jest, which caused the Greatjon to let out a booming laugh that eased the tension of the hall significantly and everyone went back to their feasting. Jon eased himself from his tense posture, relaxing his grip on his katana.

  
Then, out of nowhere, Hasashi was standing at his side, and with a single jerk of his head towards the door, made his way out. Jon took that as his cue to follow, so he stood up and left the hall as well. He followed the Orochi out across the courtyard and into the part of the keep where the residents lived, and into Hasashi's private room. It had not changed a bit since the last time Jon was in here, except for one major detail.

  
There was another suit of armour right next to Hasashi's black and green Jeonsa armour, styled similarly. But where Hasashi's armour was sleek, allowing for fast, agile movement, this new set of armour was thicker, more suited to the battlefield than the espionage tactics an Orochi specialised in. The armour was almost completely black, though the multi-layered cloth undergarments under the armour were dark grey with crimson patterns of direwolves and dragons. The rope that held the many leather and steel plates together in shape were also dyed crimson, giving the armour as a whole an appearance of red veins flowing over it. The ridges along the tops of the shoulder plates were gold and shaped like spines, and the mask of the helm had been carved from wood and painted dark grey. The carving were shaped like a snarling wolf, though Jon could see that it could also be mistaken for a dragon. The kabuto helmet was wide but appeared to be light, and other than the mask, the only other decoration was the golden U-shaped band on the front, with the edges curling outwards slightly like horns. 

  
“_Is this mine?_” asked Jon.

  
Hasashi nodded his head. “_I have been instructing your blacksmith for many months now in making this correctly,_” he said. “_After you saved Chaeyoung, I thought it more imperative that this was made for you, especially with a war looming on the horizon_.” 

  
Jon felt his throat constrict with emotion, but he managed to maintain his mask in order to hide how he was truly feeling. He bowed lowly from the waist to his master and held there for a long time until Hasashi bid him rise. 

  
“_I had it designed so that the armour shows off both of your families_,” continued Hasashi after a moment. “_To most, it will look like you are respecting your uncle's family, but to those who know who you truly are, they will see the dragon has returned._” 

  
“_Thank you sensei_,” said Jon. 

  
Hasashi gave Jon one of his rare smiles. “_You have earned the right to be a true Jeonsa Jon. But bear in mind that I did not make this decision lightly, Chizuru and Chaeyoung also strongly believe that you have earned your place in our ranks many times over_.” 

  
Jon bowed his head once more, then looked at the armour admiringly. It was more heavily-built than Hasashi's, yet not as thick as the armour worn by soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms. The combination of leather, cloth and steel woukd make it lighter and therefore easier to move, though it would nit provide as much protection compared to other armour sets. However, Jon loved his new armour, and he promised to wear it with honour both on and off the battlefield.

* * *

The day the armies of the North were due to leave Winterfell and head south to move against the Lannisters, it began to snow lightly. It was too light that the snow would all be melted by the end of the day, but it was enough to provide a beautiful scene to the sombre mood that had settled over the castle. The air was ringing with clanging metal and shouts from commanders, neighing of horses and the pounding of hooves against the dirt, but in the Godswood, the noise was barely a dull echo. Which was where Jon found Chae. 

  
She was kneeling before the heart tree, her head bowed in respect to the Old Gods. Jon stood a respectful distance as he let her pray, but he watched intently. She was dressed in a kimono with her hair done up, and even if Jon could only see her back, he knew that she was sad. In a few short hours, Jon, Robb, Hasashi and much of the Stark household would be marching south to fight for the freedom of Lord Stark, and she would be left in Winterfell with no one but Chizuru, Bran and Rickon at her side. Even Ghost and Grey Wind would be following their masters into battle. Chae had been melancholy since Robb announced their departure, and Jon couldn't blame her. 

  
Eventually Chae stood up and turned around, looking unsurprised to find Jon waiting. He went over until he was standing closely in front of her, and offered her a weak smile. 

  
“We'll be leaving soon,” he said.

  
“I know,” said Chae quietly. 

  
There was a tense silence that followed that left Jon feeling slightly awkward. This would be the first time in over six years where he would no longer be at her side, and there were so many things to say in such a short amount of time. Jon had never been a man of many words, yet right now he really wished he knew what to say to comfort Chae. 

  
“I... for the longest time I've not known what to say to you,” he began. “And at the time when I should say them, I still don't know how to.”  
Chae's dark brown eyes were beginning to glisten with unshed tears, but she remained quiet.

  
“This war... I don't know if I will come back from it,” continued Jon, “but I know that if I have a good enough reason, I’ll fight my hardest to find my way back.”

  
“What kind of reason?” asked Chae.

  
Jon said nothing, but instead he reached forward, grabbed Chae's hand and brought it up to his chest. Then, he lifted it further and placed a soft kiss upon her knuckles. 

  
“I've seen my uncle do this to his wife many times whenever he was feeling particularly affectionate, and I wanted to do the same to the person I care about the most in my life,” he said. 

  
Chae's eyes widened, and a single tear escaped down her cheek. 

  
_It's now or never Snow_, Jon thought to himself.

  
“I love you Chae,” pressed Jon. He needed to say these things now, before his courage failed him. “I have for a very long time. I just wanted to say that in case I don't come-“

  
“Do not finish that sentence,” said Chae firmly. Jon stopped speaking, feeling mildly surprised by Chae's fierceness that he could see in her eyes now. “You will win your war, and you will come home back to me as soon as you can. Do you understand?”

  
Jon nodded his head dumbly, but felt like he couldn't make an oath he knew he couldn't keep. 

  
“I love you too, Jon Snow, and I want for us to be together,” continued Chae in a softer, sadder voice. Jon felt his heart lift at her declaration, “But we cannot be together if one of us is dead, can we? So you will come back, and we will work together in figuring out everything else, understand?”

  
“Yes, my lady,” said Jon. Chae nodded her head once, satisfied with his answer. Another long silence followed, during which Jon contemplated whether or not to embrace her. 

  
_Fuck it_, he thought, then without wasting a second, he pulled Chae flush against his chest, surprising her, placed a steady hand behind her neck and titled his head down until their lips were touching.

  
Chae's lips were quite possibly the softest things Jon had ever touched. They were like silk, but tasted salty from the tears she had spilled. The kiss was short but sweet, yet it was everything Jon had imagined. When he pulled away, Chae looked a little dazed, but her pupils were dilated as she looked up at him.

  
“That was the sealing of my promise to you,” whispered Jon. 

  
“That was a good way to do it,” breathed out Chae. Jon felt goose bumps rise where her breath brushed the skin on his face, cool and soft. Oh, how he wished he could stay here in this moment forever, but very soon Robb would be needing him. 

  
“I'll make sure to bring everyone home,” said Jon as he took a step back from Chae.

  
“Make sure Hasashi does not get himself killed. He can be reckless sometimes,” said Chae.

  
Jon smiled at her one last time, and despite the pain in his heart telling him not to leave her, he turned around and exited the Godswood, leaving Chae alone by herself once more.

* * *

Robb spun around on his horse, looking for his dark-haired cousin. He knew that Jon had requested a little time to say his farewells to his family, ass well as Chaeyoung and Chizuru, but it was almost time to leave, and there was no sign of him. Jon was supposed to be his right-hand man, as unofficial as that was as many of Robb's bannermen were vying for that spot, so it would not look good in having Jon late.

  
“Perhaps the bastard has finally decided to make a man of himself,” said Theon with a dark grin on his face when he saw Robb's distress.

  
Robb frowned. It was no secret that the rivalry between the Bastard of Winterfell and the Ironborn had grown to new heights after the arrival of the YiTish people, which had only soured their relationship. Theon had not beaten Jon in the yards in years, so the Ironborn had resorted to a psychological warfare in order to best him. That left Robb unfortunately in the middle of their feud, causing him unneeded stress for himself.

  
“Perhaps the bastard slept in,” chortled the Greatjon. Robb opened his mouth to tell his men to quiet down, but Hasashi pulled up on his horse, clad in his strange armour and silently pointed to the keep. 

  
“Holy shit,” muttered Theon, perfectly describing aloud just how Robb was now suddenly feeling. 

  
Out of one of the doors appeared Jon, clad in black and red armour similar to Hasashi's, but more sturdy and thick. His hair was loose, flowing freely in the frigid Northern wind. His two swords were strapped inside his cloth belt tightly, and his left hand rested on the pommel of the longer of the two blades casually. His helm was tucked into the crook of his right elbow, and the protective mask at the front reminded Robb of a snarling wolf. All in all Jon made for an impressive yet fearsome sight, but all Robb felt was pride. 

  
When Jon approached and quickly climbed up onto the saddle of his waiting black horse, the Greatjon let out a laugh.

  
“Trying to impress a certain lady?” he asked in a teasing voice.

  
“Trying to help my brother win a coming war,” responded Jon seriously. He then looked at Robb and winked, which made the eldest Stark son laugh. 

  
Robb then let out a command, and the forces of the North started their march out of the walls of Winterfell into the vast wilderness towards the waiting south. However, before leaving, Robb looked over his shoulder to see Jon staring up to the ramparts, where Chaeyoung, Chizuru, Bran and Rickon were watching. Robb watched as Jon lifted up a hand in farewell, a gesture that Chaeyoung returned. Jon then turned around in his saddle and rode up to Robb with a sober expression on his face.

  
“Ready to follow me into glorious battle?” asked Robb in an attempt to cheer up his cousin.

  
Jon gave a snort and grinned half-heartedly. “I can't let you take all the glory for yourself, can I?” he jested.

  
Robb laughed, then together they left Winterfell. In his heart, Robb swore that he would see his home again. 


	11. The Whispering Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of people saying that they'd abandon this story if I made Ramsey hurt Chae. Glad to see that you all care about her as much as I hoped you would, but I promise that nothing bad will happen to her. And Idek if I'm gonna put Ramsey in this story. If he is, I promise that he will get what's coming to him.

It felt like an eternity before Jon was in his present situation. It took over two weeks for the armies of the North to move past the Neck, during which time soldiers came from the more southern parts of the North to join them at the fortress of Moat Cailin, then further south beyond the Neck. It had taken negotiating a ridiculous marriage between Robb and one of Walder Frey's many granddaughters in order to secure the Stark army across the Twins (a deal that Jon personally thought could have been avoided) but they had gained access into the Riverlands. They had helped some of the Riverland lords struggling against Tywin Lannister's army by pushing them back, but Jon had yet to see combat on an open field.

  
Robb had sent Roose Bolton and Hasashi with two thousand men towards the Green Fork in order to draw away the majority of the Lannister forces, leaving the rest of the North to deal with Jaime Lannister and his men who were seeking to lay siege to Riverrun, the seat of House Tully. The ploy had worked, leaving Ser Jaime with only a few thousand, and even they had split up into a smaller number of just a few hundred men when they thought Robb was with Roose's force. 

  
Within the trees of the Whispering Wood, Jon gripped the reins of his saddle tightly as his nerves fought within him. Ser Jaime Lannister’s forces were not too faraway, but it was a token force compared to Robb's force of over eighteen-thousand men. But Ser Jaime did not know that. He thought Robb was alone with only a few men. 

  
Through the trees, the red and gold armour of the Lannisters appeared, a stark contrast to the deep green and brown of the surrounding forest and making them easy to spot. The North's brown and grey leathers made it easier for them to blend in, and Jon could see that the enemy had not seen them yet. He pulled his mask over his face, covering his mouth and made sure that his kabuto was strapped securely to his head, then silently gripped the spear in his right hand tightly. 

  
Through the air, a horn blew, startling the Lannister men. As one, the Stark forces charged from all directions, surrounding the enemy and cutting off all escape. They were trapped. There was a deafening roar, followed by an even louder clanging of steel against steel, and chaos erupted as the battle began in full.

  
Jon impaled a Lannister knight through the chest with his spear and let go, ignoring as the man fell from his horse with a guttural screech. Jon then drew his katana and sliced upwards, cutting off the arm of another knight through the weak under-armour. Having already killed seven men a few months ago, Jon felt immune to the guilt of taking a life, but he was still not prepared for the sheer mayhem of war. His ears were ringing from all the noise, and his nose crinkled in disgust at the smell of blood mixing with mud and sweat. It was quite revolting, and nothing at all like he imagined as a child playing with sticks with his relatives. 

  
Jon's strange appearance gave him a slight edge over his opponents, who were startled to see a man dressed very much like a demon in black and red armour cutting them down with a weapon previously unseen. However, it also made him stand out, making him slightly more of a target. That was good though in Jon's eyes as it kept potential threats away from Robb. He was kept busy as he parried and blocked swords and spears aiming for his head and body, but he was skilled enough to swiftly cut down anyone who came too close to his blade. 

  
Jon had felled five men when his horse suddenly reared up on its hind legs in fright, and caught by surprise, Jon tumbled backwards into the blood-soaked mud. His breath was knocked from his lungs, leaving him helpless to stop a men-at-arms from raising his pike over his head to plunge it into Jon's throat. However a large white shape tackled the man to the ground, and there was a sickening tearing sound. Jon finally succeeded in sucking in a deep breath before he managed to sit up, and saw Ghost looking back at him with a blood-stained muzzle. Behind the direwolf, the man who had tried to kill Jon was choking on his own blood, his throat completely torn out.

  
“Thanks Ghost,” said Jon gratefully before he collected his katana and stood up. The white wolf then took off to scare away a group of Lannister horsemen, while Jon turned his attention to the more immediate threats coming his way, namely four Lannister men-at-arms running towards him with swords raised. 

  
Jon was outnumbered and his opponents had thicker armour than him, but he was faster and much more skilled. They came at him at the same time, but Jon quickly parried their attacks. This was almost exactly like one of the many sparring matches he had been put through by Hasashi, and it almost came to him second-nature on how to overcome this obstacle. His katana was lighter than the swords used by Westerosi, so he was able to use it faster to deflect the multiple attacks that came his way with rapid precision. The four Lannister men were surprised by Jon's skill, but they pushed harder, determined to kill the strange armour-clad warrior. 

  
Because his katana was not designed for blunt attacks, Jon had to fight smarter as well, and he did so by striking at the weak points in the Lannister armour, especially around the gaps in the armpits, between the legs, the Achilles tendons and neck. Using this method, Jon was swiftly able to disable one man by severing his tendons in his ankles, then stabbed another right through his throat and out the other side. The first man howled in agony while the second dropped dead, gurgling horrifically. The other two were stunned for a brief moment, but they had signed their death warrants by pausing. In a few swift moves, Jon stabbed one through the armpit and pierced his heart, killing him instantly while the other was killed at the same time by having his head entirely removed from his shoulders when Jon drew his second sword.

  
He finished off by recoiling backwards in a defensive pose, clutching his wakizashi in a reverse grip behind him. However, there were no more immediate threats around him, so he sheathed his wakizashi back into its scabbard, then approached the man whose tendons he had severed. The man had fallen onto his stomach and was trying to crawl away from Jon, but the young Jeonsa pinned his prey down by putting a foot down on his lower back. He whimpered something unintelligible, but Jon raised his katana up in a reverse grip, then brought it down hard. The curved blade punctured through leather, steel, flesh and bone right through the Lannister soldier's back, and Jon felt the man grow still under him, signalling his death. He yanked his sword out, then looked around.

  
The battle was quickly dying down as the small Lannister force was swiftly defeated, and already people were surrendering. But nearby, Jon could see Ser Jaime himself fighting through Northmen like a lion as he tried to cut his way to Robb, no doubt in a last-ditch effort to kill the Stark heir in order to end the war before it truly began. Jon rushed forward, but he was still too far away and watched as Ser Jaime murdered both Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, as well as Daryn Hornwood. 

  
While Jon had been too far away to save those three young lords, he was now close enough to stop Ser Jaime from killing a distracted Robb, and Jon brought his sword up to block the blow thaat woukd have ended the young Stark. Ser Jaime looked surprised at the sudden intruder's appearance, much like everyone else who had crossed swords with him, but then his eyes lit up with recognition.

  
“The Bastard of Winterfell,” said Ser Jaime. “I like the look, but if you will excuse me, I have to end a war.”

  
He tried to push Jon away, but the Jeonsa parried the blow and shoved the knight backwards, then raised his sword towards his neck.  
“You won't be touching him,” growled Jon behind his mask. 

  
Ser Jaime scowled and readied his sword for another attack, but suddenly out of nowhere Theon came and tackler the Kingslayer to the ground. Ser Jaime tried to push the Ironborn off him, but other soldiers came and pinned him down, stopping him from attempting to escape. Ser Jaime let out a roar of frustration, but he eventually accepted his loss. He was relieved of his sword and his hands quickly bound, and while Jon watched Robb came up to him from behind and patted him on the armoured shoulder.

  
“Thank you for saving my life,” he said gratefully before going to check on the fallen lordlings.

  
Jon shrugged and removed his mask and kabuto, shaking his hair out after sheathing his katana. The last of the Lannisters had all either been rounded up or killed, and from what Jon could see the battle was over. He felt a small wave of sadness come over him at the sight of the slain bodies of Eddard, Torrhen and Daryn, and though he had never really been friends with any of them, Jon respected the dedication they had for Robb, even to defend him against a superior warrior like Ser Jaime. He watched for a moment as the bodies were taken away, before finding his horse which had miraculously survived the battle and followed Robb through the forest back to their camp.

  
To their surprise, Lady Catelyn was waiting at the top of a hill on the edge of the Whispering Wood with Ser Rodrik. She looked more than relieved to see that her eldest son was alive and well, and the look she sent Jon's way was enough for him to know that she felt the same about his wellbeing too. Both quickly unsaddled from his horse once he was near enough and helped his mother do the same before embracing her, despite being covered in dirt and blood. In the meantime, Jon dismounted from his horse, but hung back next to Theon as they let the two Starks have their moment. It was a little awkward, but it made Jon long to see Chae once more. 

  
A disturbance from behind drew Jon's attention, and he turned around to see Ser Jaime being dragged by two Stark men, bound and dirty. His armour was almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime, and his red cloak was stained black. The Greatjon was holding him at sword point, though the look in the Umber lord's eyes clearly showed how much he wanted to run the Lannister through with his blade. For the most part, despite being filthy and surrounded by wrathful Northmen Ser Jaime seemed otherwise unfazed. 

  
“By the time they knew what was happening it had already happened,” stated Robb as he approached.

  
“Lady Stark. I'd offer you my sword but it appears I have lost it,” said Ser Jaime dryly as he pushed himself up onto his knees from the ground, giving the Greatjon's sword a wary look.

  
“It is not your sword I want,” said Lady Stark fiercely. “Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband!”

  
“I've lost them too I'm afraid,” said Ser Jaime with a tone of mock disappointment that sent waves of anger through everyone who heard him. Jon was a little annoyed that the Kingslayer still had the gall to mock his enemies when his life was in their hands, but at the same time he couldn't help but admire the man's bravery. Or was it actually stupidity?

  
“Kill him Robb! Send his head to his father!” said Theon loudly. “He cut down ten of your men, you saw it yourself!”

  
Jon rolled his eyes at Theon's declaration. Surely even the Ironborn could see how stupid that idea was.

  
Thankfully though, Robb knew better.

  
“He's more use to us alive than dead,” he said. 

  
“Take him away and put him in irons,” ordered Lady Stark. 

  
As the Greatjon and Theon pulled Ser Jaime up, he said to Robb, “We could end this war right now boy, save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks and I'll fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, choose your weapons! Let's end this here and now!”

  
There was a tense silence that followed Ser Jaime’s offer as everyone looked to Robb. He seemed to be considering the proposal, but then he smiled grimly.

  
“If we do it your way Kingslayer, you'd win. We're not doing it your way,” he said. Ser Jaime looked almost annoyed at the rejection, but then he caught sight of Jon.

  
“Maybe you would lose,” said Ser Jaime slowly, then grinned. “Odds are just about everyone here would lose against me. But perhaps not your bastard brother.”

  
Everyone turned to look at Jon, who suddenly felt much like the time his lord uncle had caught him stealing from the kitchens when he was a boy. What was worse though, was that everyone looked like they were actually considering it, except for Robb who now looked angry.

  
“No,” he said vehemently.

  
“Come on boy! If your brother fights on your behalf, you might actually win!” insisted Ser Jaime. “He killed almost as many men today as I did, he's quite possibly the only man in your entire army who stands a chance! Unless you have his master with you as well.”

  
“I said no,” snapped Robb. “Take him away!” 

  
“Robb,” said Jon, making everyone stop what they were doing. He walked closer to his cousin and said quietly, “I can do it.” 

  
“I said no,” repeated Robb.

  
“We could be saving lives here,” insisted Jon. “We could get your father and sisters back!”

  
“And if you lose?” asked Robb.

  
Jon shrugged, “Then I will have died with honour,” he said.

  
Robb looked like he wanted to argue more, but he looked around to see his bannermen, Theon and Lady Stark all nodding their agreement. He sighed, then said in an annoyed tone, “You Jeonsa care more about your honour than we Starks.”

  
“I will take that as a compliment,” said Jon.

  
Robb’s jaw clenched, but he signalled for the Kingslayer to be released. His ropes were cut, and he massaged feeling back into his wrists while standing up. A soldier offered him a sword, which he took and gave a few practice swings while everyone else took several steps back to give the two warriors room to duel.

  
“This will be a good rematch,” commented Ser Jaime as he watched Jon warily.

  
Jon responded by handing Robb his kabuto and drew his katana, the steel ringing against the sheath cleanly and he readied his stance. Unlike their first duel, this time it was the real thing, with real steel and a real life-or-death outcome. Ser Jaime had dropped his usual cocky attitude in favour of a determined grimace, which to Jon meant that the knight was taking this more seriously. If he had fought Robb, Jon doubted the Kingslayer would have cared that much. 

  
Ser Jaime struck first, a swing that was aimed straight for Jon's neck. It would have taken his head clean off, but Jon parried the strike and responded with a jab that was deflected away from Ser Jaime's stomach. Very quickly, the two fighting men were surrounded by countless men, with just about all of them cheering for Jon to win. 

  
However, Jon quickly found himself on the defensive as he was pushed back a few steps. Ser Jaime was not holding back at all, he clearly wanted to win badly. He was fast, almost too fast for Jon and incredibly strong as well as every blow had the younger man's arms shaking from the impact. The man before him was fighting like an animal possessed.

“Come on Jon!” shouted Robb. 

  
Jon managed to force Ser Jaime back, giving them some space and time for him to breathe. He quickly readjusted his footing, then nodded. Ser Jaime lurched forward again and delivered a combination of brutal attacks that once again had Jon backpedalling, but this time he managed to get a lucky hit in and punched the Kingslayer straight across the jaw, sending the gold-haired man reeling backwards. He looked at Jon with surprise as he touched his lip, which had already begun to swell up.

  
“Impressive,” commented Ser Jaime. Jon didn't let the man continued speaking, as he charged forward and brought his katana down as hard as he could with a yell, but Ser Jaime blocked the strike, though he dropped down to his knees from the force of it. 

  
Ser Jaime pushed his sword back, but Jon struck again, forcing the older man to go on the defensive for the first time, but he managed to hold off Jon's attacks well. Jon had the advantage of speed, but the knight was more experienced and stronger, and he used that when he lurched his leg foot and kicked Jon hard in the gut when he accidentally let his guard open. The impact was so hard Jon felt the air leave his lungs and he was thrown onto his back to the ground. The pain followed, and Jon tried to breathe, but panic set in when he saw the Kingslayer stalking towards him.

  
Jon barely held up his sword in time to parry Ser Jaime’s attack, but it left him wide open to the follow up strike. Ser Jaime swung his sword upwards, and Jon fell backwards to avoid his head being cleaved in half. However, the tip of the sword grazed up Jon's left cheek and up through his brow, and blood seeped into his eye, blinding him slightly. Jon stumbled back and tried to wipe away the blood, but Ser Jaime attacked again, not letting up.

  
More panic welled inside Jon. He was losing, and no one would help him in this battle. He fell to one knee and held his sword up to stop Ser Jaime's strike, then rolled out of the way. He turned around and then slammed his shoulder into the knight's back, sending him stumbling forwards but he recovered quickly.

  
“Fighting dirty are we?” snarled Ser Jaime. “Is that what it is going to take for you to win?” 

  
The Kingslayer swung his sword yet again, and Jon brought his katana up to lock blades. Both men grunted as they pushed against each other, but neither gave way just yet. However, Jon could feel his strength fading, and he needed away to gain the upper hand. Then he remembered Hasashi's advice, that Ser Jaime often left his hands unguarded when he fought. But the real trick was finding out _how_ to exploit that weakness. 

  
Jon's eyes briefly drifted down to the wakizashi still in its sheath at his waist, and an idea formed in his head in the space of a millisecond. Using Ser Jaime's strength against him, Jon gave way and spun around the Kingslayer, forcing him to stumble forwards at the sudden weight shift. There was the moment right there! Ser Jaime's right hand was in the air clutching his sword as he tried to shift around back to Jon.

  
In one fluid motion, Jon drew his wakizashi and lunged forward. Ser Jaime parried the first attack, but it left him unguarded and Jon used his second blade to swing down. The sharp edge cleaved through leather, flesh and bone, separating Ser Jaime's sword hand from the wrist, and it fell to the ground, still holding the sword. Blood spurted from the stump to the ground, coating the grass in red, and Ser Jaime looked down at his missing limb in shock. Then he looked to Jon, then back down before letting out a mighty scream of pain before collapsing to his knees. 

  
“You won Jon!” exclaimed Robb happily as he came over.

  
“Finish off the Kingslayer!” barked out Theon. 

  
“No, the fight is over,” said Jon as he sheathed his two swords. He wasn't going to kill a man already defeated. He looked at Robb, who nodded and ordered his men to have the Kingslayer's wounds treated before being put in a cell. 

  
As he was dragged away, Ser Jaime continued to scream, the noise echoing in Jon's ears far more hauntingly than any other noise he had heard before. He took his kabuto back from Robb before going back to his horse, ignoring the shouts of admiration and respect being thrown his way as he headed back the rest of the way to camp.

  
Jon may have won, but the victory felt hollow. He just wanted to get his family back and then go home.

* * *

The next few days passed by quickly. The siege of Riverrun was lifted when Robb's forces pushed back the Lannisters, joined once again by Roose Bolton and Hasashi's men that had distracted Tywin Lannister. Amongst the prisoners held by the Lannisters was Lady Stark’s younger brother Edmure Tully, and with his safe return Riverrun opened itself up to the Starks, becoming their base of operations for the time being. They'd sent Ser Jaime's severed hand to Lord Tywin as proof of his eldest son's capture as well as demands for a surrender on conditions of trial by combat, but so far no answer had been given.

  
However, almost immediately after that, word came from King's Landing. Eddard Stark had been found guilty of treason and been executed, and Sansa and Arya were being held captive to keep Robb at bay. The news shook everyone to their core, especially Jon, Robb and Lady Stark who knew him and loved him the most. Robb and Lady Stark mourned together, and while Jon had spent his time with them as well, he just wanted to be left alone.

  
He found a quiet spot in the woods near Riverrun, away from the camps and sympathetic looks of the soldiers and lords. His only company was Ghost, who was resting with his head on his paws, his red eyes looking at his master intently. Jon sat on the root of a great oak tree, sharpening his sword slowly. His uncle had once done this exact same thing many times before to clear his mind and soul, and Jon figured he could do the same, if only to help him forget.

  
His uncle, the man who Jon had called his father for the first fourteen years of his life and raised him as one of his own was no longer in this world. It was like the gods were playing a cruel trick on him. Jon and Robb had come all this way with an army of twenty-thousand to rescue the man who raised them, only to have him ripped from their grasp forever. It wasn't fair, it was simply cruel. And now Sansa and Arya were being held hostage as a means of leverage to keep the armies of the North away from King's Landing. 

  
_This is not the end, young dragon_, whispered a voice that had Jon immediately on edge. 

  
“Who goes there?” said Jon loudly as he stood up quickly, his sword ready. He couldn't see anyone or anything, and Ghost had not even reacted either. Perhaps Jon was just imagining things. 

  
_You are not imagining things_, said that same voice again. 

  
Jon spun around, his head swivelling around to catch sight of whoever was speaking, but again, there was no one.

  
“Who are you?” called out Jon. “Show yourself!” 

  
Jon suddenly felt a strange sense of peace wash over him, and all of his fears, anger and sorrow were washed away. A cool breeze blew past him, sending a tingling, pleasant feeling through him. Above him through the trees, the light of the sun shone brighter, and a pillar of light descended until it stopped just above Jon. A figure, whose characteristics were indefinable because of the light descended gracefully from the pillar until it was hovering above Jon. 

  
The light faded, and Jon saw that the person was a woman more beautiful than any other woman he had ever seen before. She bore a striking resemblance to Chae, but her hair was white like snow and flowed down past her shoulders. Her robes were white and resembled a kimono, and it fell down to her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were like burning furnaces, and she was truly a powerful sight to behold, but she gave off no signs of an aggressor. Instead, powerful waves of love and peace flowed from her, and Jon felt safe with her, even though he had no idea who or what she was. All he knew was that she was incredibly powerful.

  
“Who are you?” Jon repeated with an awed voice.

  
“I am the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, one of the principal gods of Yi Ti,” answered the woman in a voice like rushing waters. 

  
The Maiden-Made-Of-Light? Jon was in the presence of a literal _god?_ He felt his legs give out underneath him as he bowed low to the Maiden. He felt unworthy, unclean to be in her presence. 

  
“What do you want with me?” he asked. He hated how his voice quivered slightly, but he couldn't help it. She was amazing!

  
“My husband and I want for you to fulfil your destiny,” said the Maiden. “And you shall do that with our guidance.”

  
“Your husband?” questioned Jon. His query was answered when another pillar of light, this one more like moonlight than sunlight fell next to the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. A man in shimmering white robes like the moon appeared, his black hair a messy mane, but he was very clearly YiTish in origin, though his power was of a level similar to the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. His eyes were stars, white and cold, and his expression grim and serious. 

  
“I am the Lion-of-Night,” said the man. His voice was like rolling thunder, powerful and deep that sent waves right through Jon's chest. 

  
“Why have you come to me?” asked Jon.

  
“A great evil stirs in the lands beyond the Wall,” answered the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. “It wishes to consume all living things in its quest for domination, and there are few with the power to stop it. Left unchecked, it will destroy all life in this world.”

  
“But a prophecy was made thousands of years ago, that the Prince that was Promised would drive back this great evil and end it forever,” said the Lion-of-Night. “A hero born of Ice and Fire.”

  
“That is you, Jon Targaryen,” said the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. 

  
Jon felt his eyes widen. “M-me?” he stammered out. 

  
“Yes, you. The son of a man of dragons and a woman of winter, the product of a prophecy coming true,” answered the Lion-of-Night. “You are destined for greatness, but evil men craving power and ambition seek to claim what is rightfully yours, which will be the world's undoing.”

  
“This is why we have come to you,” said the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, “to help guide you so that you can claim what is rightfully yours and prepare the world for the coming storm.”

  
Jon was amazed. He was being visited by two gods who were offering him aid, yet wanted him to be a part of something he had never even heard of. 

  
“What should I do?” he asked the two deities.

  
“For now, continue on your current course,” said the Maiden-Made-Of-Light. “We will seek you when the time is right. But for now, wait.”

  
Without another word, the two pillars of light took the two gods up into the air, and the light faded back to normal. Jon had somehow fallen onto his back, and his strength was utterly depleted. His cheeks were wet with tears, and Ghost was giving him a curious look.

  
Jon felt weak, but the feeling of wonder never left him. He had seen not just one, but two gods! He needed to get back to Riverrun fast. But he had to wait for a few minutes before he felt his strength return, so he pushed himself up, sheathed his katana and went with Ghost back to Riverrun. 


	12. Dark Wings, Dark Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everybody! This will be the last chapter for at least a week and a half as I'm going on holiday!

“I wish to speak with the Kingslayer alone,” declared Jon quietly yet firmly. 

  
None of the guards questioned him as they silently walked away from their stations, a small perk Jon now had since earning the respect of the entire North for winning his duel against Jaime, as well as his other accomplishments during the war that was currently raging. Alone with no one but his direwolf Ghost, he walked into the makeshift cell and opened the door of the Kingslayer. 

  
In the months since their duel, Jaime had changed dramatically for the worse. His golden hair was unrecognisable with all of the caked dirt and grime, making it a disgusting brown colour. He had grown a matted beard, his clothes were filthy and he stunk badly. He looked pale and gaunt under the mess, his green eyes dull and almost lifeless, and the bandages around the stump where his right hand used to be looked like they needed replacing. Gone was the proud, fearsome knight of the Kingsguard, replaced by a shell of his former self. Next to him, his plate of food remained untouched. He looked up when Jon entered, and gave the Jeonsa a dead smile.

  
“So the mighty warrior decides to grace me with his presence,” commented Jaime in a voice hoarse from lack of use. 

  
Jon ignored the taunt as he inspected the man before him. It was pathetic to see Jaime fall so low from what he once was, and Jon felt pity towards him.

  
“Are they treating you well?” asked Jon. 

  
Jaime shuffled slightly, causing his shackles to clank loudly in the cage as he looked around.

  
“I must admit, I have been in better accommodations,” he said dryly. 

  
“I was talking about the guards,” said Jon. “Are they taking care of you? Are they harassing you? When was the last time you had your bandages changed?”

  
“Oh, stop with the white knight attitude, it doesn't match your armour or your sullen face,” snapped Jaime angrily. Jon felt his temper flare up, but he managed to school his features so as to not give anything away to the prisoner. However, his grip on the pommel of his sword tightened ever so slightly. Beside him, Ghost gave a silent growl that had the Kingslayer easing up significantly.

  
“Would you rather I insult you? Call you a sister-fucker or an oath breaker?” asked Jon.

  
“At least you would be a lot more genuine,” snorted Jaime. 

  
“I shall try to be more honest with you in the future then,” said Jon in a tense voice.

  
“At least I can count a man raised by Ned Stark to be that,” grumbled Jaime.

  
The mention of Jon's dead uncle sent a pang of hurt through Jon's heart as he was reminded again of his fate. Executed for a crime nobody believed he committed, yet was one of the main reasons behind this war. 

  
“Why are you here anyway? I don't think you are here for idle banter,” asked Jaime, bringing Jon out of his thoughts.

  
“I...” Jon trailed off. Why had he come? Originally it was to ask if it was Jaime who pushed Bran, and then later sent a catspaw to finish the job. But Jon sensed that Jaime would not be telling him anything worthwhile anytime soon, even if he held his sword to his neck. The man was infuriating in that sort of way.

  
“I don't know,” Jon admitted.

  
“That's not a good thing to admit when you're doing something,” said Jaime in an informative tone that sounded mocking. 

  
Jon scowled at Jaime, but he remained nonchalant. The silence that followed was not awkward, but neither was it particularly comfortable. The older man looked around the cell like he was seeing it for the first time, while Jon's eyes remained fixed on him. 

  
“So what will happen to me?” asked Jaime. “I don't imagine I'm going to be spending the rest of my life in this place, as lively as it is.”

  
“Lord Robb will decide your fate,” said Jon. 

  
“So he has not declared the North's independence? It seems the boy has more brains than I thought,” said Jaime with a light scoff. 

  
Jon grit his teeth. After Lord Stark's death, the Northern lords had tried to crown Robb as King in the North, but he had refused, saying that he would make the decision to be crowned once the North had avenged Ned Stark's death and Sansa and Arya were returned. That was what he said, but Jon knew that Robb was quietly waiting for him to put his claim to the Iron Throne forth. He still didn't want it, but the Lion-of-Night and the Maiden-Made-Of-Light had told him it was his destiny to lead the Seven Kingdoms. So that put him in a situation he would really have liked to get out of. 

  
“Robb understands that there are things more important than a crown,” he said evasively.

  
“Like revenge?” suggested Jaime spitefully. “Because that is what this war is all about, isn't it? Revenge for my family killing your father and taking your sisters captive.”

  
Jon could feel his anger spiking, so he said, “Your fool of a king should have called for a cease in the fighting once he learned I beat you in single combat, as we agreed. What we are doing is exavting justice for the wrongs committed against us.”

  
“Your idea of justice sounds very much like my definition of revenge. And why should Joffrey, or my father for that matter, have done that? From what I've gathered, your brother decided to keep the war going once he found out your honourable fool of a father was without his head,” snapped Jaime. 

  
Jon opened his mouth, but closed it again and sighed as he thought about it. Robb should have still honoured the agreement of the single combat, but at the same time Jon believed that the decision to continue the war was justified seeing as the Lannisters had murdered Ned Stark. But, Jon was also tired of fighting already. He just wanted to go back home to Winterfell to be with his family and Chae. But while Sansa and Arya were still trapped in King's Landing, Jon knew that he wouldn’t rest until they were safe. 

  
“Perhaps both sides are making mistakes,” he said tiredly. 

  
Jaime shrugged indifferently. “Maybe, but that all we're good for at the end of the day,” he said. “Then he looked thoughtful and smirked. “I've heard that you've earned quite the name for yourself on the battlefield. The guards having taken to calling you ‘the Demon of the North' with how good at fighting you are, as well as your odd armour.”

  
Jon sighed. The war had been going on for another three months since Ned's death, and Jon had fought in most of the major battles so far. His skill with the blade and ferocity in combat alongside Ghost and Hasashi had earned him a fearsome reputation, one which had gained him the respect of the lords of the North and a name to be feared by his enemies. Demon of the North was just one of the many names Jon had heard used to describe him. ‘The White Wolf' and ‘Black Demon’ were other monikers he'd heard mentioned.

  
“I am sure the stories are exaggerated,” he said.

  
“Perhaps, but you are still alive, and the men talk about you like you are Arthur Dayne come again,” said Jaime. “With what I've seen myself, that's not far from the truth. After all, you did beat me,” he added, lifting up his stump of a hand as if to prove his point. “Then again, you did cheat technically, but I can't be too angry about that. My duelling record isn't exactly clean either. Why, I stuck a dagger through the eyes of one of your father's men when he was distracted by my sword.”

  
Jon once again pushed aside his anger. The Kingslayer sure had a talent for infuriating the people he talked to. But at the same time Jon felt a small amount of gratitude at hearing the Kingslayer compliment him without any mockery, but as he always did he pushed that aside for later.

  
“You're not angry I cut off your hand?” he asked.

  
“Oh, I am furious to be sure,” said Jaime. “Losing the one thing that made me stand out amongst the rest of these barbarians and idiots is my nightmare come true, but at least it happened the way I wanted it to.”

  
“I see,” said Jon, “I think I would feel the same way if I was in your situation.”

  
“Men like us do not contribute much to our people except kill the people who get in our way. To lose what makes us unique can almost end a man,” said Jaime with a disappointed-sounding sigh. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he perked up as if he hadn't shown Jon the more vulnerable side of himself and asked, “So why do they call you demon? Is it because of the armour?”

  
“I think so,” said Jon, then he sighed and added, “My armour is supposed to invoke the image of a direwolf though.”

  
“Might be the ornament on your helmet,” said Jaime. “To be honest, when I first saw you on the field, I thought you were a Targaryen, because your armour looks a lot like a dragon. Rhaegar's armour was similar to yours actually, but of course it was more like what a knight would wear.”

  
“You knew him, didn't you?” said Jon. He suddenly felt curious to learn from Jaime about his birth father. He was probably one of the only men alive who still knew him. 

  
“I did, better than most,” said Jaime with a rueful smile. “He was nothing like that oaf Robert Baratheon called him. Despite what is believed, Rhaegar was a good person. To believe that he kidnapped your aunt you would have to be either a fool, a Baratheon or a Stark.”

  
“I don't believe he kidnapped Lyanna,” said Jon, ignoring the insult thrown at his family.

  
“Oh really?” said Jaime. He looked genuinely surprised at Jon's admission, and a single dirty eyebrow on his face perked up. “What makes you think that?”

  
“I just know what it is like to be misjudged based on rumour or belief,” said Jon evasively. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable under Jaime's scrutinising gaze, because if there was one person who could figure out his true identity, it was the man who knew his father best. 

  
Jaime's eyes narrowed in disbelief, and Jon felt like he had to get away from him before he revealed too much on accident.

  
“You are a curious man, Jon Snow,” said Jaime. 

  
Jon didn't think that the shamed knight was complimenting him that time. Jon decided right then that he had had enough, and decided that it was time for him to go. 

  
But as he departed, he heard Jaime call out, “Give my regards to your brother for me won't you?”

  
“_Fool_,” Jon muttered in YiTish as he walked further away.

  
However, it seemed that somebody else wanted to speak with him, because a hand rested on his shoulder when he was away from the makeshift cell, closer the tents where he and Robb were residing. Quick as a viper, Jon spun around and drew his sword halfway out of its scabbard before he recognised the newcomer. It was Hasashi with his horse, and he fixed Jon with an amused look.

  
“_I'm glad to see that your reflexes have not dulled_,” he commented wryly. “_Though your observation skills could use more working on if you didn't notice the horse_.”

  
Jon relaxed his posture and put his katana back in its sheath, then bowed to his teacher, then he noticed his clothing. He was fully dressed in his armour, though he didn't have his kabuto or mask which was hanging from the side of his horse's saddle. And his things were all packed.

  
“_Where are you going?_” asked Jon. 

  
Hasashi's amusement disappeared in a flash, replaced by, well, Jon wasn't sure what it was because he'd never seen it on the man's face before, but it looked like regret. 

  
“_I am returning to Yi Ti_,” he said gravely. 

  
“_Yi Ti?_” said Jon. He felt surprised by this. Only a day ago Hasashi was just as keen to kill Lannisters as the rest of them, so why was he suddenly running back to his homeland.

  
The question must have been on Jon's face, because he explained by saying, “_One of Lord Robb's men came to me saying that a group of foreign men have been asking around the towns and villages for a YiTish girl accompanied by a troop of strangely-armoured warriors. Apparently they've been following our armies_.”

  
“_Our armour and weapons,_” said Jon quietly in realisation. These people, possibly more Geulimja, were going wherever stories of the two Jeonsa were in hopes of finding Chae with them!

  
“_If they learn we've come from the North, nothing will stop them from going and taking Chae!_” said Jon.

  
“_They won't,_” said Hasashi.

  
“_They might!_”

  
“_Trust me Jon, they've already been taken care of,_” said Hasashi with a meaningful look. Jon was about to argue further, but then the blood on Hasashi's armour and his words caught his attention.

  
“_Oh_,” he said dumbly. Then he gave the Orochi a confused look. “_But if you've already dealt with the threat, then why are you leaving?_”

  
“_Because they won't stop coming until I put a stop to it from the source,”_ said Hasashi. Then he looked away from Jon, observing the men walking about the tents or socialising around the campfires. “_This war will not be one with just men of the North and the Riverlands. This is just a temporary conflict compared to the true battle that awaits us, the one you have seen in your visions._”

  
“_What about my training?_” asked Jon.

  
Hasashi clapped Jon on the shoulder and said, with a hint of pride in his voice, “_You have completed your training. I have taught you everything I know, and I am proud of the man you have become. I could not have asked for a better student._”

  
Hasashi then pulled his two swords from his obi, then offered them to Jon. Jon was struck dumb for a moment as his teacher offered him his two prized weapons.

  
“_I cannot take your weapons_,” he protested weakly.

  
“_You are not taking them, I'm offering them to you,_” said Hasashi. When Jon still didn't take the swords, Hasashi added, “_These blades are sworn to protect the Princess of Yi Ti. Where I go, they cannot do that but if you take them now, you can continue to fulfil the oath I have made. Take them_.”

  
Jon hesitated for a moment longer, before he cautiously took the two blades and offered his own to Hasashi, which he gladly accepted. The scabbards were decorated with golden Yi Ti dragons, and the leather was black. When he drew the longer katana from its sheath, the Valyrian steel of the blade glinted in the dim firelight, shining brightly.

  
“_I know you will not dishonour yourself with these swords_,” said Hasashi. 

  
“_Thank you, sensei,_” said Jon as he sheathed the katana and put the blades into his obi, then he bowed lowly to his mentor.

  
Hasashi bowed in return to Jon then, quick as lightning, climbed up onto his horse, then peered down at Jon once more with a sad look on his face. Jon felt himself about to be overcome with sadness, but he pushed his emotions down. There would be time to mourn later.

  
“_When will you return?_” he asked.

  
“_As soon as I have secured Chaeyoung’s safety,_” said Hasashi. “_However, I may not return for at least a year and a half, but I will bring an army with me,_” he then promised.

  
“_More Jeonsa?_” questioned Jon.

  
Hasashi nodded. “_We will need the skill of my people for the future_,” he said gravely. Then he bent down and clasped arms with Jon and said, “_Until we meet again, Jon Targaryen_,” and he made to leave, then paused, looked back at Jon and gave him one of his rare grins. 

  
“_What?_” said Jon.

  
“_The best way for you to protect Chaeyoung is to find her a husband,_” replied Hasashi. “_And by husband I mean you need to get off your arse and ask for her hand when you see her again._”

  
Jon was too stunned to say anything in response as Hasashi rode off. Hasashi wanted him to marry Chae? That was what he said, correct? Jon couldn't have imagined it, especially because Hasashi was smiling when he said it, and he smiled even less than Jon's uncle ever had.   
Jon shook his head and muttered, “The world's going mad,” before he continued his walk back to his tent. 

  
That night, he dreamed of a kraken taking a castle, but before its tentacles could wrap around the towers fully, the white wolf ripped the kraken from the castle and sent it to an icy wasteland.

* * *

The war had been going on for almost nine months, and so far nothing had been heard regarding Theon's progress with his father, or Lady Stark’s negotiations with Renly Baratheon and the Tyrells. In that time though, Jon and Robb's reputations as fierce warriors spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, Jon's more so than Robb. 

  
The further south-west the hosts of the North travelled, into the Westerlands, Jon heard people, smallfolk and Lannister soldiers alike all speaking of the Demon of the North who came with his white wolf and Valyrian steel swords. In the Riverlands, he was heralded as a hero, but the further into the Westerlands they went, his name went from a utterance of awe and inspiration to a nightmare parents told their children at night. According to scouts, the lords of the Westerlands had been spreading rumours that Robb could transform into a giant wolf that ate his victims in battle, and Jon was a terrible demon that lived in human skin, only coming out when blood had to be spilt. Of course, none of those rumours were true, but Tywin Lannister's men were using the stories to turn the people against the North. Jon had no doubt the same stories were being told in the Crownlands as well. 

  
One thing that Jon enjoyed with his new reputation was the respect he earned from Robb's bannermen. No longer did they look at him with contempt as a bastard who did not belong at their liege lord's side, but rather as a warrior and a skilled battle-commander. His voice and opinions were no longer ignored in war councils, and sometimes his advice was even sought out amongst the lords. Jon thought that the trust he was getting would one day end up being to his advantage when he decided to lay claim to the Iron Throne, whenever the Yi Ti gods said he could pursue that course. 

  
Nine months into the war, dark news came to them. 

  
In Robb's tent, it was just Jon, Lady Stark and Robb in there. All the other lords had gone to bed, but Lady Stark had just returned after trying to negotiate with Lord Renly Baratheon, one of the three men contesting for the Iron Throne. Her tale involved Renly's willingness to help the North get its revenge on the Lannisters, but as negotiations had begun to conclude Renly had been murdered by what Lady Stark described as ‘a shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon.’ 

  
The North had heard reports that Stannis had a red witch from Asshai at his side as an advisor and was converting much of Stannis's men to her strange fire god religion. No one had taken much stock of it before but now, hearing that Renly had possibly been murdered using magic worried them. It made Jon concerned that Stannis might try a similar trick on Robb, or anyone who contested his claim to the Iron Throne. Luckily Stannis didn't know that Jon was a Targaryen and had a greater claim by blood.

  
Robb was reluctant to believe Lady Stark's claim, but Jon believed her. He'd seen enough in his lifetime to not dismiss people's tales simply because of what they said. After all, his visions and meeting of two gods was enough to convince him that anything was possible.   
But then, Jon decided to once again bring up an old argument with his cousin as he rounded on Robb.

  
“I still don't think it was a good idea to send Theon to Pyke to treat with his father,” he said.

  
Robb sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. “You're not going to go over this again, are you?” he asked wearily. Next to him, Lady Stark gave her son and nephew a worried look.

  
“Yes, I am,” said Jon determinedly. Then he leaned over the table so that his hands were supporting his weight and said more seriously, “You should have sent somebody else, anyone. Just not him.”

  
“Why not?” asked Robb.

  
“Because I don't trust him!” said Jon. 

  
“Bringing up old childhood memories is not enough to convince me of your point Jon,” said Robb.

  
“I'm not talking about my feelings towards him, I'm talking about who Theon is as a person,” snapped Jon. “He is reckless, arrogant and foolhardy. You might think that he is your best choice in gaining the Iron Islands as allies, but I am telling you Robb that he is not a Stark. He is a Greyjoy and he might choose his family over you.”

  
“I'm not having this discussion,” growled Robb in a frustrated tone.

  
“Jon brings up a valid point,” piped up Lady Stark. When Robb opened his mouth to argue, she added quickly, “As the new Warden of the North you need to start thinking of your people, and can you honestly say that you believe Theon is best suited to this mission?”

  
“Yes,” answered Robb without hesitation.

  
“I'm done here for the night,” huffed Jon impatiently. He realised his cousin was too stubborn to listen to him right now.

  
“I did not give you permission to go,” growled out Robb angrily.

  
“Then may I go, _my lord?”_ asked Jon mockingly. He stood up straight, ignoring Robb's glare and without waiting for a reply, he made to leave.  
However, Jon's path was blocked when one of the guards stationed outside came through the tent's flap, an urgent look on his face.

  
“Forgive me, my lords and lady, but a messenger has arrived with a letter from Winterfell,” said the guard. 

  
“Let him in,” said Robb.

  
The guard bowed his head before ducking out, then the messenger came. He looked tired and thin, like he had been riding for a very long distance in a short amount of time. He was also quite dirty, but the desperate look in his eyes showed the urgency he carried. Jon decided to stay and see what the messenger had delivered, so he took a few steps back inside.

  
“My lords, my lady,” said the man in a husky voice. His accent was clearly from the South, suggesting he was probably a Riverlands man. “I have a letter that came to Riverrun from Winterfell. Lord Edmure wanted me to bring it to you as soon as possible.”

  
“Give it to me solider, then get some rest. You've earned it,” said Robb. The messenger gave him the letter then left the tent quickly.

  
In the meantime, Robb opened up the letter and began to read. However, Jon noticed that as his cousin read, in the space of a few seconds his expression went from confusion, then shock, then anger.

  
“That fucking _traitor!_” he roared suddenly, startling both Jon and Lady Stark. The two of them shared a confused expression before Lady Stark took the missive from her son, and she went from confused to horrified shock as she clasped a hand over her mouth with a gasp. 

  
“I'm going to take his fucking head!” snarled Robb as Jon took his turn with the letter.

  
In an instant, Jon's blood went cold with shock and fear. He couldn't think properly, but only a few words stuck out to him. _Ironborn raids in the North... Torrhen's Square taken... Theon... Winterfell captured..._

  
Jon was right, Theon did turn on them. His father had convinced him to abandon the family who raised him and now he was leading the raids on the North. But that wasn't what had Jon so terrified. Bran and Rickon were in Winterfell, as was Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Mikken, Hodor, Chizuru...

  
Chae was in Winterfell, surrounded by Theon and his Ironborn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave it on that small cliffhanger, but anyways, Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!


	13. Takeover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> PS - much of this chapter is taken from the show/books.

Chae wasn't sure how it happened. One minute, she was making sure that Rickon wasn't getting up to too much mischief with his direwolf Shaggydog. The early morning routines were just starting as servants flittered about the castle, lighting candles, carrying cloths, linens and scrolls to their intended destinations. Outside, Chae could hear the forges starting as the clanging of hammers against steel sounded. 

  
“Chae Chae! Look!” Shouted Rickon happily. She saw him riding on top of her direwolf, looking absolutely joyful as he cackled madly while his beast carried him around the hall. 

  
“You're not supposed to be riding him like that Rickon,” said Chae sternly as she went over to the boy and his wolf. She grabbed Rickon under the armpits and lifted him up over Shaggydog, then put him on the ground. 

  
Rickon looked upset that he had been denied his fun, but Chae felt that despite his large size, Shaggydog was still to small to be carrying boys around on his back. When the direwolf was older though, that might be a different story altogether. 

  
“Why can't I ride Shaggydog?” complained Rickon.

  
“Because you are too big for your wolf to support your weight,” answered Chae firmly. 

  
“Do Robb and Jon ride their wolves into battle?” asked Rickon.

  
Chae felt a wave of sadness wash over her at the mention of Jon. It had been a long time since she had seen him, and every day she missed him so much it physically hurt. The reports they had been getting regarding the war assured Chae that Jon was fine, but that did not stop her from worrying. Jon was in a war and despite his skills as a warrior, nothing was for certain when it came to war. 

  
Chae's hand subconsciously went to rest over her heart, where she had stored Jon's latest letter. According to the letter, he was well, though his words indicated that he was tired and wanted to come home even though he did not outright say it. Every raven he sent comforted Chae, though they also only made her miss him even more.

  
“Chae?” said Rickon, pulling the woman back to the present.

  
“I'm sorry, what did you say?” asked Chae as she blinked rapidly to clear her head. 

  
“I asked if you think Robb and Jon ride their direwolves into battle?” repeated Rickon. He looked slightly exasperated at Chae in the way children often were when their attention spans were wavering, but she smiled and ruffled the boy's thick, curly red hair.

  
“I don't think so,” she said warmly. “After all, Jon and Robb are much fatter than you are, they might accidentally squash their wolves if they tried!”

  
Rickon giggled at the thought, which made Chae smile as her spirits lifted. One day, she hoped to have children, and she hoped that she would have that sort of life with Jon.

  
“Chae Chae? You're doing it again,” said Rickon said impatiently.

  
“Sorry,” said Chae bashfully. Rickon was starting to fidget, which meant that he was getting bored quickly and when the youngest Stark was bored, chaos ensued. 

  
“Come, let's go see if there is anything in the kitchens to feed you, wild wolf,” suggested Chae. Rickon giggled again as he nodded excitedly, and he took the hand Chae offered him. Despite being only seven years old, Rickon was surprisingly strong.

  
The happiness wasn't to last, however, when both of them stopped walking when they heard screaming from outside, followed by angry shouts and things being knocked over. Beside Rickon, Shaggydog started to growl, his fangs bared and his hackles raised. Chae took that to mean that something terrible was happening, and for a moment she feared that the Geulimja had returned. 

  
The hall's main doors opened then, and Chizuru appeared, her nodachi drawn and her hair a mess. 

  
“Come Chaeyoung and Rickon,” she said urgently as she beckoned them over.

  
“What's going on Chizu?” asked Rickon.

  
“Winterfell has been taken,” answered Chizuru.

  
“By who?” asked Chae. Winterfell Had been invaded and taken by enemies? For her, that destroyed any notion of it being the Geulimja, they were assassins, not invaders. Then who had attacked? 

  
Chizuru had the answer to that when she said gravely, “Theon Greyjoy.”

  
_Theon_. Chae remembered the boy who so desperately wanted to be a Stark, despite having always denied it. At the start, he had been rude to Chae and her guardians, but after a while, and after having been beaten down by Jon, Master Hasashi and Chizuru several times, he had largely ignored their presence. Chae had always thought if him as a little too arrogant and full of himself, and he was on occasion rather vulgar in his speech, but she had never thought him capable of attacking a castle, let alone Winterfell. 

  
“I have to get you both to safety,” said Chizuru as the three of them plus Shaggydog left the hall.

  
They passed through corridors, being careful not to be spotted, but it was all in vain because they ran into a group of about five or six Ironborn, including Theon himself and Bran, who was being carried by Hodor, the simple stableboy. Bran looked distraught, and Chae could see that though Theon was putting off an air of superiority and confidence, she could tell that really he looked quite in over his head, like he had no idea what he was doing. 

  
“Found you,” said Theon. He took a step forward, but Chizuru raised her sword in the distance between her and the Ironborn, and Shaggydog growled menacingly, his green eyes flashing savagely. Theon stopped moving, then scowled.

  
“Bran has already yielded the castle to me,” he announced, raising his chin higher. “We are all meeting in the courtyard where he will officially declare it to everyone.” 

  
“If you think we are simply going to go-“ Chizuru started to say angrily.

  
“Chizuru please, Theon has promised nobody will get hurt if I yield the castle to him,” pleaded Bran.

  
Chae could see her protector contemplating her options. She knew that the Totoisha could kill all of the Ironborn currently in the hall, but if the other raiders outside learned what had happened, they would kill everyone else in the castle and possibly overwhelm Chizuru. She was a skilled warrior, but she wasn't Master Hasashi or even Jon. And Chae only had her hidden dagger that she kept hidden in her obi, away from prying eyes. She was good at using it, but not against multiple enemies at the same time. 

  
Eventually Chizuru came to a conclusion after a tense moment, during which the Ironborns' grips on their weapons had tightened, and the air had become thick with tension with Shaggydog's growling. All of that lessened slightly when Chizuru dropped her nodachi in a sign of surrender, but she did not step out of her protective stance over Chae and Rickon. Theon didn't look like he was expecting any less, because he merely grunted and walked in the opposite direction. The rest of them followed, with one of the Ironborn carrying Chizuru's sword like it was some kind of trophy that now belonged to him. 

  
In the courtyard, everyone had already been gathered around, including the kitchen wenches, the cook, Mikken, the stableboys and the guards who had managed to survive the attack. They were completely surrounded by men wearing the same armour as Theon, with the kraken of House Greyjoy emblazoned on the front. Every single one of them were ugly, with deep wrinkles lining their faces that made them look much older than they probably were. When a few of them saw Chae, they gave her leering looks that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Normally she was used to being looked at like she was a prize, but this time around, there weren't a whole lot of people who could help her if those men decided to act upon their lecherous desires.

  
The affair in the courtyard was both shameful and distressing. Theon was acting even more pompous and loud than usual as he humiliated Bran in front of his people, and he bristled with unrighteous indignity every time somebody called him out on his cowardice. When Farlen, Winterfell's kennelmaster continued to insult Theon, one of his men attacked from behind and beat him, leaving the man simpering on the ground. Chae wanted to go over and help the poor man, but one look from Chizuru told her not to. Luckily Farlen's daughter helped him back onto his feet. 

  
But then, things got far worse. Theon commanded Maester Luwin to send ravens to Pyke and Deepwood Motte, requesting for additional men, and he made to address the rest of them, but a disturbance at the gates cut him off. Hands tied behind his back, his face bloodied and bruised yet the disdain and anger clear, Ser Rodrik Cassel was dragged to the front by two reavers. 

  
“We caught this one on his way back from Torrhen's Square,” said one of the reavers, a bald fat man who was missing half of his teeth. “He took out two of ours before I got his sword.” 

  
Theon looked Ser Rodrik up and down, then said, “Ser Rodrik, it grieves me that we must meet as foes.”

  
“It grieves me that you have less honour than a back-alley whore,” spat Ser Rodrik. Chae wanted to tell the master-at-arms to quieten down, but her fear kept her silent. She sent up a prayer to the Lion-of-Night and the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, as well as any other gods listening for help, but no answer came immediately.

  
Theon's face turned red as Ser Rodrik continued in his thick Northern accent. 

  
“You were raised here under this roof! These people are your people!” he yelled.

  
“They are not my people!” cut in Theon. 

  
“King Robb thought of you as a brother!” snarled Ser Rodrik. Theon took a step closer to Ser Rodrik then.

  
“My brothers are dead,” he declared. “They died fighting Stark men, men like you!”

  
“Aye they died fighting a war your father started!” snapped Ser Rodrik. Every word the older man spoke further condemned him, and Chae so desperately wanted to do something about it to stop him from going too far.

  
“Lord Stark raised you among his own sons!” continued Ser Rodrik.

  
“Among them,” agreed Theon, “but not one of them! I was his hostage, taken from my home!”

  
Ser Rodrik shook his head with anger and sadness mixed on his face and said sadly, “If he were alive to see this...”

  
“He's not, he's dead,” interrupted Theon. “The Seven Kingdoms are at war, and Winterfell is mine!”

  
Ser Rodrik's face contorted with rage then. 

  
“I should have put a sword in you belly instead of in your hand,” he growled.

  
Theon looked like he was tired of the arguing with the master-at-arms and shook his head. Around him, his reavers all looked between the two of them.

  
“We need to do something,” whispered Chae desperately to Chizuru, but her protector shook her head.

  
“No, stepping in will only bring unwanted attention upon us,” said Chizuru gravely. “There will come a time though to do something to help, we just have to wait for it.”

  
“You have served this house faithfully old man,” said Theon with a small modicum of respect in his voice, “but keep talking and I'll-“

  
He was suddenly cut off when Ser Rodrik spat in his face, making him step back with surprise on his face. One of the men holding Ser Rodrik punched the old man in the gut, making him grunt in pain and buckle over to his knees. The two men then lifted up Ser Rodrik while Theon stood over him. 

  
“Take him to the cells! Lock him up-“ Theon started to order, but one of his ken, a towering hulk of a beast with a hideous scar that ran down his left cheek approached and said something quietly into his ear. Chae couldn't hear it, but by the look on Theon's face it can't have been good. Theon glanced between his soldier and Ser Rodrik, and Chae felt her belly tighten with anxiety. Then Theon looked to Chae, Bran and the others, and in her heart Chae knew something terrible was about to happen as she felt the tension thicken. 

  
Then Theon nodded, turned back to his captive and said loudly so that everyone in the courtyard to hear, “Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death!” 

  
There were gasps all through the yard, but Bran's voice was by far the loudest as he said, “No! You said no harm would come to them if I yielded!” 

  
“The old man couldn't keep his mouth shut!” snapped Theon angrily.

  
What happened next was chaos. Ser Rodrik was dragged over to the chopping block while Theon took the sword from his man, insisting that he be the one to perform the execution. People were screaming, but none so loud as Bran as he pleaded with Theon from where he was sitting for him to spare the old knight. 

  
“This is barbaric,” said Chizuru quietly as she looked upon the scene with silent, simmering anger blazing in her eyes. 

  
“Is there nothing we can do?” asked Chae.

  
“Not if we wish to end up like him,” said Chizuru. 

  
“Please Theon, don't do this!” cried Bran as tears streamed down his face. Above them, rain started to pour down from the grey sky, which only added to the tension of everything going on. 

  
“Hush now child,” said Ser Rodrik in a comforting voice, “I'm off to see your father now.”

  
Theon looked around the courtyard, a mad look in his eyes before he asked Ser Rodrik, “Any last words old man?”

  
“Gods help you, Theon Greyjoy,” said Ser Rodrik in a resigned tone, “Now you are truly lost.”

  
Theon raised his sword up, then brought it down hard against Ser Rodrik's neck. However, the blade didn't cut all the way through, leaving the old knight to cough out a torrent of blood from his mouth. The scene only became worse when Theon hacked again and again with his blunt weapon, spurting blood everywhere. Chae had seen executions, she'd even seen men take their own lives in shame by disembowelling themselves, but this was not an execution. This was torture, and Theon had to resort to kicking Ser Rodrik’s head off the last bit of his butchered neck to separate it. 

  
Theon looked around, and his expression changed when he saw they way everyone was looking at him. Chae could see in his eyes that he had realised how far in over his head was, but he steeled himself and wiped the blood off his face. 

  
Theon had given Ser Rodrik an ignominious death, and Chae hoped that someday, the Ironborn would experience a far worse fate. 

  
“Come my lady,” said Chizuru. She gently guided Chae away from the courtyard while Maester Luwin took care of Bran and Rickon, and she was led back into the keep, back to her own room. 

  
The weather outside had turned into a full-blown thunderstorm, and the rain pattered against the castle roofs loudly. Inside the castle it was completely quiet, and the air felt greatly subdued after the chaos that occurred outside. 

  
Chae felt numb inside. In the space of nearly a year her entire world had flipped upside down on itself. First, Lord Ned Stark, the man who offered Chae and her guardians his home was murdered by the false king Joffrey Baratheon. Then, Jon and Robb, as well as Lady Stark had gone south to seek out justice for Ned Stark's murder, and had been gone for almost a year. Then, word that Master Hasashi had gone to Yi Ti when he had discovered more Geulimja in the Riverlands, and no one knew when he would come back. And now, Theon had betrayed them and executed Ser Rodrik. They were prisoners in their own home.

  
There was a knock on the door to Chae's room, and Chizuru instantly reached for the wakizashi that was laying on the mantelpiece. Then, Theon appeared, looking tired despite his best efforts not to. He hadn't properly wiped Ser Rodrik’s blood off his face, instead smearing it horrifically. 

  
“I wish to speak with Lady Chaeyoung,” he declared.

  
“Over my dead body,” snarled Chizuru dangerously.

  
Theon looked uncomfortable, no doubt remembering that one time years ago when he tried to make a move on the Jeonsa and got a beating for it. But he managed to say in a steady voice, “That can be arranged.”

  
Before Chizuru could respond, Chae said, “It's okay, you can wait outside if you hear anything.” Then she added in YiTish, “_And if you do, kill him.”_

  
Chizuru looked back at Chae like she had gone mad, but she lowered her weapon, bowed to Chae and made a hasty retreat out of the room, glaring at Theon on the way out. 

  
Theon sighed and said, “I am sorry that you had to see me execute Ser Rodrik.”

  
“No you're not,” replied Chae quickly. “You're more sorry that you were embarrassed trying to kill him.”

  
Theon's eye twitched, a minute sign of his anger, but he shrugged. 

  
“He disrespected me as the new Lord of Winterfell,” he said.

  
“You are not Lord of Winterfell,” said Chae.

  
“Bran yielded the castle to...”

  
“Bran is not the eldest son of Ned Stark.”

  
Theon narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, making Chae step back. When Theon saw the reaction, he smirked.

  
“You don't have to be afraid, you know,” he said.

  
“You're a traitor, you cannot be trusted,” countered Chae.

  
“I have never been with the Starks,” said Theon. He walked over to the window and looked out, beyond the castle walls to the view of Winter Town. “I'm a Greyjoy, I always have been.”

  
“Is that what you tell yourself to justify your actions?” asked Chae mockingly. “Have you been planning this coup ever since you came here for the first time?”

  
Theon whipped around and glared at her. “I was never a Stark! I was never treated with the respect I deserved as heir to the Iron Islands! I was a hostage!”

  
“Lord Stark gave you a home, a family and friends who loved you,” argued Chae. “Did you truly ever feel unwanted? Lesser than the people around you?” 

  
When Theon didn't answer right away, Chae pressed forward. “You do not know what it means to truly be an outsider. True, you may come from a different place, but you look, speak and act like a Northerner. I have been an outsider since I came to the North Theon. I look different, I speak a different language, I even dress differently to you. I may call Winterfell my home now, but it has not always been like that for me.”

  
“You adjusted well enough,” scoffed Theon.

  
“I had help from a lot of people, including you,” said Chae. 

  
Theon's head whipped around to face her, a look of disbelief on her face. 

  
“I don't believe you,” he said. “It was always Jon who you were most comfortable with.”

  
“Jon helped the most, and is the person I trust above all others. But that does not mean I didn't think you helped,” said Chae. “And I did once trust you as well.”

  
Theon scowled and looked away, giving Chae time to assess him. She could see that he was fighting a war within himself, possibly contemplating everything she had told him. She prayed that his heart would make the right choice. But then Theon turned around and gave Chae a curious look.

  
“Why Jon?” he asked.

  
The question threw Chae off. “Sorry?” she said.

  
“Jon is a bastard. He has no claim to anything, no titles, no future ahead of him. He would be better off suited to the Night's Watch,” elaborated Theon. “So why did you choose him over countless young lords who could have given you whatever you wanted?” 

  
_Oh, this is a pride thing for him_, thought Chae. 

  
“I come from a place where many men offered me the same things,” she said. “But I've never cared for those things. I have only ever cared about love and loyalty, which Jon has in bounds.”

  
“But he is a bastard, he is worth nothing!” said Theon. 

  
“Jon is worth a hundred of you,” hissed Chae. She could feel her temper rising as she fought to defend the man she loved. She didn't expect Theon to understand in all honesty, but she wasn't about to let him drag Jon's name through the mud. He'd had enough of that in his life.

  
Theon's face turned red. “I could give you everything,” he said. “I could give you Winterfell if you wanted it. All you have to do is be with me.”

  
_Oh_. Now Chae truly did understand. Theon thought he was in love with her.

  
“The chances of Jon surviving this war are low,” continued Theon. “And he cannot give you the protection I offer you. I could make you the Lady of the Iron Islands. We could go wherever we want, be whoever we want to be.”

  
“No,” said Chae quickly and firmly. “I will never choose you over Jon.” 

  
Theon again looked angry as his eye twitched, and he stormed towards the door like an insolent brat. However, he paused just before opening it.

  
“I would stay out of sight as much as possible if I were you. I can't control all of my men,” he said in a tone different from his expression before exiting, leaving Chae frozen where she stood. Chizuru reappeared then and gave her a concerned look.

  
“_Did he harm you, my lady?_” asked the Jeonsa worriedly.

  
Chae shook her head. Physically, she was fine. But she was more than a little shaken by her confrontation with Theon. 

  
_Please come home Jon_, thought Chae desperately. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapteris another new POV! Can you guess who?


	14. Securing Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a pretty small one compared to the others, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Braavos was the city one would go to in order to travel anywhere in the world. One of the only Free Cities that could actually claim that title, it was an enormous city, bigger than any in Westeros and many in Yi Ti. Cultures from all over the known world could be seen traversing through the streets and socialising along the rivers and docks, where foods and other exotic trades were bartered for and sold. Wherever one was in the city, you could always see the colossal Titan of Braavos that guarded the only way into the city, the enormous statue towering higher than any man-made structure Hasashi had ever seen. 

  
However, with multiple cultures all together in one place, with the good came the bad. Especially the foreign gods who Hasashi did not trust. The Lord of Light and the Many-Faced God were two religions that he despised, seeing as much of their religion required blood sacrifices and assassinations coupled with dark magic. Hasashi had dealt with enough warlocks and sorcerers in his lifetime to warrant such a hatred for them. So he stayed away from the priests and priestesses of the Red God as they performed their sermons in the streets, preferring to take long routes if only to avoid them. He didn't even bother going near the House of Black and White, the supposed temple of the Many-Faced God.

  
Hasashi wore a long, thick leather coat over his armour and swords with the hood drawn up to hide his face as he traversed through the narrow street of Braavos. It would not do to be recognised by a YiTish merchant, seeing as there were enough of them in the city that at least one of them might recognise him and draw unwanted attention. So he kept to himself, blending in with the crowds and slipping in between stalls of hollering merchants and fishermen, dodging children playing their games on the streets until he arrived at an inn near some docks.

  
Once inside, Hasashi surveyed the room. Years of training as an Orochi and being the Emperor's personal assassin had taught him to be mindful of his surroundings, something he had taught Jon again and again as well. The inn was busy, which was good because it meant there were more things people could be distracted by rather than focussing the stranger who just entered. A young maid with dark hair and bronze skin approached him then with a friendly smile.

  
“One of your corner booths please,” said Hasashi to the woman. 

  
“Of course,” said the maid, and she led the Orochi over to an empty booth in the corner of the room that gave Hasashi a clear view of the entire bar, meaning nothing could surprise him. He ordered a drink then sat down, making sure most of his features were hidden in the shadows so that no one would see him unless they knew he was already there. The maid returned with a large mug of Arbour Gold, then left, leaving Hasashi alone. 

  
Hasashi barely moved as he observed his surroundings, though his eyes never stayed still for long. Many people in the bar were already drunk and speaking very loudly over each other, creating the sort of chaos that Hasashi didn't like. The maids of the inn were rushing everywhere trying to collect orders and hand out drinks like scurrying ants, and more than a few intoxicated men were hollering at them inappropriately like wolves. 

  
Then, through the door came a man who was most definitely YiTish with his features that were similar to Hasashi's, drawing the Orochi's attention. His garb suggested that he was a merchant, and a wealthy merchant at that if his monkey skin hat and silk robes were any indication. He sat down alone, like Hasashi, though he seemed far more relaxed than the Orochi, like he had been to this particular inn before. When a maid came by Hasashi's table, he stopped her.

  
“That merchant, who is he?” he asked.

  
“That man? Oh, I'm not entirely sure, but he is a regular visitor,” said the maid. “He usually visits when he comes to Braavos, most imports from Yi Ti to here come from him.”

  
_A powerful merchant_, thought Hasashi to himself. “When does he leave next?” he asked.

  
The maid shrugged. “I don't know. Probably within the next day or two, he has been here for a month or so at this point.”

  
Hasashi nodded and thanked the woman, then sent her on her way, his eyes never leaving the merchant. The merchant hadn't noticed him yet, but Hasashi thought it over. A merchant as rich and powerful as this one was sure to travel to the capital city of Yin throughout his travels, which was where Hasashi needed to go in order to stop the Geulimja from continuing to seek out Chaeyoung. Having a man this powerful as well meant the merchant probably had multiple ships under his command, meaning that Hasashi would be able to take as many Jeonsa back to Westeros in order to help Jon fulfil his destiny and take back his kingdom. 

  
On the other hand though, travelling with a high-profile merchant would attract attention to the Orochi if he hadn't already been discovered yet. In a city as large as Braavos, there was little doubt that Seijuro had sent his spies here to seek out word of Chaeyoung, though Hasashi wasn't sure if the evil warlord knew about the deaths of the other dozen Jeonsa that accompanied the princess seven years ago. Yi Ti was so far away that by the time any information would reach the empire all the way from the Seven Kingdoms, it would be outdated and useless. That was probably how Hasashi and the others had remained hidden for so long. 

  
Regardless, travelling with the merchant was dangerous, but the cost of if he didn't get back to his homeland in time far outweighed any possibility of delay. With that, Hasashi made his decision and stood up from his chair, then approached the lone merchant. 

  
“_Is this seat taken?”_ he asked in YiTish, gesturing to the seat opposite the merchant. The merchant looked up in mild surprise at being addressed in his native tongue, but he indicated that it was free. So Hasashi sat and took in the appearance of the man before him.

  
He looked to be around the same age as him, with slight wrinkles between his brows and crow's feet on the corners of his eyes. His hair was short and well-maintained underneath the monkey-skin hat he wore. His teeth were a dark, stained from years of drinking tea more than likely. Hiss eyebrows as well were thick and bushy, and he had an air of arrogance about him.

  
“_Not many of my fellow countrymen speak to Kim Hoseok_,” said the merchant, addressing himself in the third person. 

  
“_Not many of our countrymen are like me,_” replied Hasashi. He discreetly pulled his cloak away to reveal the pommel of the katana Jon had given him, which made Hoseok raise a curious eyebrow at him.

  
“_You are a Jeonsa?_” said Hoseok. “_What brings you out here to the Free City of Braavos?”_

  
“_I'm a ronin_,” lied Hasashi. Ronin were masterless Jeonsa, who went out on their own either in order to regain their honour or use their skills for money. The lie tasted bitter in Hasashi's mouth, but he wasn't about to tell a complete stranger who he really was anytime soon.

  
“_Ah, you have come here for coin,_” said Hoseok with a light chuckle as he leaned back in his chair. “_You were with a sellsword company?_” 

  
“_The Second Sons_,” Hasashi lied again. “_I have been with them for almost fifteen years, but I have decided that it was time to return home to regain my honour.”_

  
“_May the Lion-of-Night bless you for it_,” said Hoseok. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. “_So I take it you wish to board one of my ships that is leaving for Yin?”_

  
“_If it is possible_,” said Hasashi.

  
The merchant grinned at Hasashi. “_You are more than welcome to join me when I depart tomorrow for Yin, however you will have to be of use to me. I do not appreciate men who do not work for their keep,_” he said. 

  
“_I can work as a deckhand, or in any other position you need_,” said Hasashi. 

  
“_I trust that you will. After all, a Jeonsa's word is his bond_,” said Hoseok. He then finished his drink and stood up with a loud sigh before dropping some gold coins on the table. “_We leave tomorrow at first light by the docks near the House of Black and White. Good day,_” he said before walking away, leaving Hasashi by himself once again. 

  
_That was a lot easier than I thought_, thought Hasashi. He returned to his original table and ordered another drink, once again scanning the room like a hawk. He stayed there until long after the sun had set in the west before he decided to head towards the docks. Sunrise was still a few hours away, but Hasashi wanted to get a good look at the ship he would be spending the next several months on in order to familiarise himself. 

  
On the way, Hasashi passed by a duo of YiTish men dressed like sailors who completely ignored him. Hasashi was fine with that, his hood kept all but his mouth and chin hidden from view. However, when he passed by another group of YiTish men that Hasashi began to grow suspicious.

  
_Once is not odd. Two times is coincidence, but three times is on purpose,_ he thought to himself. Though he could not see them, Hasashi knew that someone was following him. He had come to an empty space, where several YiTish men brandishing ninjato and katana were waiting for him. He recognised them as the same men he had passed earlier, who had no doubt made a detour to intercept him before he could reach Hoseok’s ship. Behind Hasashi, the footsteps stopped and he heard the ringing of steel against a scabbard as a sword was drawn. 

  
“_The great Orochi, Hasashi Tetsuo, finally found at last_,” said the voice of the man behind him. Hasashi slowly turned around to see a man in dark leathers, holding a katana casually. His hair hung down past his earlobes, black as midnight just like most other YiTish people, but other than that, there were no distinguishing features that Hasashi could see. 

  
“_Tell us where the princess is and we will allow your death to be swift_,” continued the leader arrogantly. 

  
Hasashi did not respond, but instead he slowly positioned his feet so that he turn in any direction swiftly for when he was inevitably attacked from all sides. He didn't know who these men were, but he glimpsed the emblem of a black Oni face, confirming that they were not sent by the Emperor, but rather Lord Seijuro.

  
_The bastard still hasn't given up_, thought Hasashi glumly. 

  
To his left, the assassin swung his sword, but Hasashi spun around while at the same time drawing his katana and slicing the man's stomach open. He heard a sickening thud as the assassin's guts hit the dusty cobblestone pathway, but he paid it no mind as he focussed on his next target. The other Geulimja were shocked for a brief moment at Hasashi's speed in killing their ally, but they quickly recovered and attacked as one. 

  
Because he was battling multiple opponents at the same time, Hasashi was forced to draw his wakizashi and dual-wield in order to block and parry multiple strikes. He had never been a fan of dual-wielding personally, but that didn't mean he wasn't good at it. In fact, Hasashi was confident that he was the deadliest swordsman no matter how many swords he was holding. 

  
The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Clearly the Geulimja had underestimated Hasashi, and he made them pay for it with their lives. He was swift and merciless as a viper, showing them no quarter as he disembowelled intestines, severed limbs and pierced hearts. When it was down to the leader of this band of assassins, the leader had the gall to sneer at him.

  
“_More will come_,” he promised hatefully. “_Lord Seijuro’s power is unmatched. He will find the princess and-_“

  
Hasashi silenced the Geulimja with a swift stroke of his katana, and the cut was so clean that the man's head didn't come off until his body collapsed to the ground. Hasashi huffed derisively as he sheathed his two blades, then stepped over the bodies like they weren't even there.  
Arrogant, just like their master, he thought distastefully. Seijuro was many things, but his pride would prove to be his downfall, and Hasashi wanted to be there when that day came. 

  
Hasashi found the ship easy enough, The Dragon's Pride, docked exactly where Hoseok said it would be. It was designed much like a traditional YiTish ship, only larger and sturdier for long voyages. It was painted green and gold, and at the front of the ship was a YiTish dragon that snarled silently ahead. Hasashi quietly boarded the ship and headed straight for the captain's quarters, then knocked three times.

  
Speaking with the captain to secure passage was easy enough. Once Hasashi informed the hard sailor that he had met with Hoseok personally, the captain was more than happy to allow him onto the ship, but only after Hasashi promised to help on the deck every day. They were waiting for Hoseok to arrive, and when he did, the crew wasted no time in setting off to sea, beyond the Titan of Braavos and to the open waters.  
The first part of the journey was now complete, and now it was time for the longest part for Hasashi.

  
He was going home. 


	15. The Company of the Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay! Real life got in the way, as well as some family drama, and I wrote this chapter about four different times from different perspectives, but none of them seemed to flow well enough. I started off with a Theon POV, then it switched to Chae, and I even tried a Maester Luwin POV, but ultimately settled for Jon. I'm still not entirely happy with this update, so I might go back later to edit it further.
> 
> But enjoy!

Winterfell's capture shook all of the armies of the North to the core. What made it even worse was that it was captured by a man who was trusted amongst the leaders of the North, and with the capture of the seat of House Stark, Robb's two heirs went with that as well. Across the North, towns, villages and seats of power were raided by Ironborn, leaving trails of destruction and death in their wake.

  
It left many desperate to return to defend their homes, but at the same time if the North left, the Riverlands would be left vulnerable to attack by the Lannisters. Thus, Robb was in a terrible predicament, one that so far, no viable option had been explored or suggested.

  
For Jon, the urge to go back to Winterfell, rescue Chae, Bran and Rickon and kill Theon grew stronger with every passing day. In battles he fought more fiercely in battle, slaying dozens in every skirmish and earning his ‘Demon' moniker more and more. Nothing could stop him from his fury.

  
However, it was at one particular war council that Jon found his first opportunity to go home and save the people he loved.

  
“How can we fight here while our homes are being raided by savages?!” boomed the Greatjon.

  
His cry was met by several nods and murmurs of assent by the other lords and commanders of the North, which looked to annoy Robb slightly. 

  
Jon sat in a corner, polishing his Valyrian steel katana of the dried blood from the most recent battle against the Lannisters with a damp rag. The smokey steel glittered in the warm light caused by the torches, reflecting the rippling dark patterns that gave the dragon steel its unique appearance. Every good sword had a name, but as far as Jon knew Hasashi had never given his two blades any names. He'd thought on several occasions about giving the katana and wakizashi names, but it didn’t feel right.

  
Jon was the only one in the tent still completely covered in his armour, minus the kabuto, while everyone else was either completely changed or only wearing bits and pieces. Covered in the blood of his enemies, Jon apparently made for quite an intimidating sight with his Jeonsa armour. He knew that his hair was a tangled mess and that his face was caked in mud and blood, but he didn't much care right now.   
He only cared about cleaning his sword while listening in on the council

  
“My lords, we cannot retreat back to the North without losing the territories we have already claimed,” said Robb in a low, tired voice. “We must stay here and finish the war, or else we will lose.”

  
“There won't be anything left in the North to go back to if we stay here,” argued Lord Karstark.

  
“And you propose that you leave the Riverlands undefended against Tywin Lannister while you retreat back to your frozen home?” said Lord Blackwood in outrage. 

  
“Nobody is suggesting that,” said Robb before a fight could break out between the two highborn men. “However, we cannot spare the men to go back to the North and retake what we have lost.”

  
“Every day we spend here in the South, the more people we lose,” said Maege Mormont. “The reports coming in say that the Ironborn face little to no opposition because of their occupation of Winterfell. The smallfolk are killed and raped, and the ones that survive are left to starve. Your brothers are held hostage by Theon Greyjoy. His sister holds Deepwood Motte with over a thousand men while their uncle Victarion raids the coasts along the west.”

  
“I am aware of the sufferings of my people, my lady,” said Robb in a voice of forced patience that only Jon could recognise. “However, my decision remains the same. No forces will go North to reclaim what we have lost until after we have taken Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister's head sits on a pike.”

  
“If I may, my lord,” said Lord Roose Bolton. The man's cold, pale eyes swept over the assembled council with a gleam in them that Jon didn't like. He trusted the Lord of the Dreadfort about as far as he could throw him, but even he couldn't deny that the man was a tactical genius that commanded respect. 

  
“Perhaps we need not send a large force to retake your lands,” continued Lord Roose. “All we would need is a few good men and a sound strategy.”

  
“What do you propose my lord?” asked Robb.

  
“Send a group of perhaps one hundred men to the North to take back Winterfell, and then from there harass the Ironborn with guerrilla tactics until such a time as you can afford to send a larger force to help drive back the reavers to the ocean,” suggested Lord Bolton. “Make the Ironborn lose all taste for war because you have made it too bitter a pill to swallow.”

  
Robb looked thoughtful as he seemed to take into account the leech lord's suggestion. It was a good plan, and it looked as though the other lords and commanders thought so too. Jon hadn't even considered the idea himself, but now that he had heard it, he wanted to be a part of more than anything. 

  
“It is a good strategy,” conceded Robb finally. But he gave Lord Bolton a critical look. “But who do you suggest should lead this campaign?”

  
“My bastard son, Ramsay, is a ruthless and vile boy, but he is qualified to undertake such an operation,” said Lord Bolton. “I believe he is best suited to take back your home, my lord.”

  
Ramsay Snow? Jon didn't know much about the man, but what he had heard was enough to make him think that it wasn't a good idea. In order to take Winterfell back from the Ironborn, the company needed to be led by someone who knew the layout of the ancient castle. Someone who had frown up there.

  
Someone like Jon. 

  
“My lord,” said Jon, speaking for the first time since the council began. Everyone looked to him, with varying degrees of curiosity and apprehension. 

  
“I would like to volunteer to lead this campaign,” he continued. Jon saw a few looks of approval, the most notable of which came from Lady Stark herself, who hadn't spoken at all.

  
“I need you here Jon,” said Robb with a shake of his head. 

  
“My skills are not needed here in the Westerlands at the present time, my lord,” argued Jon. “They would be of better use retaking our home from the traitor Theon. And besides, I know Winterfell and its layout, I'm the best option of finding a way to get in to save everyone.”

  
“The bastard has the right of it, my lord,” said Lord Galbart Glover. 

  
“Aye. He has proven himself a formidable warrior and commander on the battlefield,” concurred Lady Maege. 

  
When the rest of the lords and ladies in the council murmured their assent to Jon's offer, Robb had no other choice. He sighed, bowed his head, then nodded in defeat. 

  
“Very well. Prepare some men to accompany you to Winterfell, and you take back our home,” he said wearily. 

  
“Thank you, my lord,” said Jon.

* * *

It took three days before Jon had assembled a group of one hundred men who were willing to return with him to the North. It wasn't for lack of volunteers, but rather because he had been looking for men familiar with Winterfell's layout, as well as their skills in espionage and combat. For this mission, it was imperative that only the best soldiers and warriors come. No unnecessary burdens would accompany Jon. 

  
Though not all of the men Jon had chosen were originally from Winterfell or had been there in the past, all of them brought with them unique skills that would make retaking the ancient castle much easier. Jon had recruited hunters, warriors, scouts, archers, men who were big and strong enough to be half giant but were as light on their as rabbits (Umber men), master trackers, and even a man from White Harbour who specialised in spying and espionage. With their skills combined, Jon was confident that he would be able to take his home back from Theon and his Ironborn. 

  
The day he was due to leave, Jon was leading his horse to the front of his company, where Robb and Lady Stark were waiting. Surrounding the company was almost the entirety of Robb's army, who had all come to see off the Demon before his quest to regain the North. Jon stopped his horse right in front of Robb and Lady Stark, dressed almost fully in his recently-cleaned armour and offered them both a grim smile.

  
“The next time I see you, I hope you bring Tywin Lannister’s head with you,” he said to Robb.

  
“I'll bring all of the Lannisters' heads with me if I can,” promised Robb. He too was decked out in his armour, and next to Jon, the dark-haired man couldn't help but notice how different they looked. They were brothers, even if they were actually cousins, but Jon looked more like a warrior with his two swords and extravagant armour compared to Robb's heavier, more simplistic leathers and steel. 

  
However, the two embraced each other firmly, patting each other on the back hard before letting go so that Jon could say goodbye to Lady Stark. 

  
“I'll save your sons, you have my word my lady,” swore Jon. 

  
“Do what you can Jon. Protect my family and your own,” urged Lady Stark. Jon knew that the family she called his own was referring to Chae and Chizuru, and he nodded before giving his aunt a kiss on the back of her hand. 

  
Without sparing another moment, Jon went back to climb into his horse's saddle and looked behind him. His men were grim and eager to return to the North, and Jon felt that same feeling come over him. He spared his aunt and cousin a final look, and after nodding at them in farewell, he signalled for the march to begin. 

  
“FOR THE NORTH!!!” boomed the Greatjon.

  
“FOR THE NORTH! FOR THE NORTH!” came the echo of ten thousand voices, cheering for the Demon of the North and his force to take back their homes from the reavers. The cheers continued until Jon and his men had long departed the camp, the echoes ringing through the Westerlands.

  
The journey back to the North was largely uneventful. In that time Jon got to k ow each and every one of his men to better understand the kind of people he was leading, as well as coming up with a good enough game plan on how to take back Winterfell. From his chats with his men, Jon picked out several who stood out to him the most because of their personalities and their skills.

  
Rickard, a hard man from the Gift and served under lord Umber, was almost as old and big as his liege lord. Towering over everyone else in the company, arms thick as tree trunks and a salt and pepper beard that went down to his chest, his preferred weapon was a huge maul that looked more like a cross between a battle axe and a warhammer, and as far as Jon knew Rickard was the only one strong to hold it easily, let alone swing it like it weighed nothing. In battle he wore a steel helm that covered half his face, with ox horns protruding down from the sides. But despite his huge, fearsome appearance, he was actually quite a gentle, wise soul who knew many things.

  
Ulfric, a short man from the island of Skagos, was one of the very few men from the mountain clans who answered Robb's call to arms. A short, lean man, he wore hardly anything except his furs of bear and wolf pelts, leaving his scarred arms entirely exposed to the frigid weather that didn't seem to bother him at all. He was as wild as the rumours of the mountain clans claimed, and in battle he was reported to fall into a berserker rage that could not be sated until all his enemies were killed. His preferred weapons; two razor-sharp hatchets that he kept on his person at all times. 

  
Then there was Will, a man from Winterfell who was as honourable as he was brave. A man who possessed great skill with the longsword and a thick, red beard, he was loyal and dependable, so Jon had made him his second-in-command. Will was a quiet man who didn't stick out too much, but in combat he was a force to be reckoned with. His knowledge of Winterfell was also invaluable. 

  
And finally, Ser Symon, a knight of the Riverlands. Despite being a knight, he was one of Brynden Tully's best archers and a talented tracker/scout, able to shoot a rabbit dead in the eye from a hundred yards. He was tall and had a light build with a sharp wit to match his charismatic nature, and his eyesight was keen to the point that it was almost unnatural. But Jon relied on Symon heavily to look out raiding parties of Ironborn, and so far he'd gotten Jon's company past several groups of the reavers undetected. 

  
The company passed through Moat Cailin and the Neck easily, but Jon decided that the best course of action to remain hidden so that Theon wasn't alerted to their presence was to go through the Wolf's Wood. From what Jon's scouts had told him, the Ironborn avoided the ancient forest because of the dangers and the high risk of getting lost forever, preferring to keep to the fringes of the forest to cut wood for boats. Luckily though, a few of Jon's men had been traversing through these particular woods since they could walk, so he trusted their navigation skills and the nose of his direwolf Ghost to get them through until they reached Winterfell. 

  
Going through the Wolf's Wood delayed the journey North by several weeks, but eventually, Jon could see the grey towers and walls of his home from the edge of the forest. It looked vastly unchanged, except for the kraken flags fluttering off the walls instead of the grey direwolf head. Upon seeing the castle, Ghost let out a silent growl.

  
“Easy boy, we're almost there,” said Jon quietly as he ran a hand through his wolf's white fur. He himself could feel the anticipation building up within him. His goal was so close, Chae was so close, but there was a hundred Ironborn and Theon to get through first. Jon had killed enough men in his lifetime to be almost immune to the possibility of taking more lives, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

  
Jon returned to the camp of waiting men within the forest, giving them all a silent nod as he stopped in front of the small campfire. They'd been camping just out of sight of the castle so Ironborn scouts couldn't see them for the past two days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

  
“Well, what did you see?” asked Ulfric, who Jon had come to expect to be blunt to the point of rudeness. Jon didn't mind though.

  
“Winterfell is largely unchanged, though the flags need to be replaced with something with less tentacles,” he said, earning a few laughs from his men. 

  
“So the plan is to go ahead?” said Rickard, his huge, muscular frame towering over everyone else.

  
“We'll attack tonight,” confirmed Jon. “But we must be swift and ensure the castle is ours by dawn. Symon's reported that an army of three hundred Ironborn are marching Winterfell from Deepwood Motte to reinforce the castle.”

  
“Then that means that there are less men in Winterfell than we thought,” mused Will thoughtfully. 

  
“I agree. Theon's hold on the North must be weaker than he's saying if he's asking for reinforcements from his sister,” said Jon. 

  
“If all goes well, then I expect we'll have Winterfell by breakfast,” said Rickard easily, folding his huge arms over his broad chest.

  
“If all goes well,” emphasized Jon. “We cannot afford to make any mistakes, the lives of our people are at stake. If a problem emerges, adapt or cut your way through any Ironborn that stands against you.”

  
His declaration was met with the cheers of men enthusiastic to wet their steel with the blood of Ironborn savages.

* * *

It was midnight, and Jon, alongside Symon kept their backs close to the grey outer wall surrounding Winterfell. He knew that on every corner of the castle, ninety-eight men were doing the exact same. Even now in the darkness, Jon could make out the silhouettes of Ulfric and fifteen other men. 

  
With a silent nod to Symon, Jon threw the hook he was holding up into the air. The hook, attached to a thick rope lodged onto the top of the wall and held fast. After a few tugs to make sure the hook wouldn't release, Jon scaled up towards the top, followed closely by Symon. At the top, a few torches were lit, bathing the paths at the top with dim, orange lit, but there were no Ironborn on patrol.

  
The wall that Jon and Symon had scaled was the one around the Godswood, and using the rope, the duo scaled down the other side into the sacred wood. The weirwood was bleeding fresh sap through its morose eyes, like it was weeping for the suffering the ancient castle had endured under the Ironborn's rule. Jon ignored the uncomfortable feeling that often settled over him every time he came into the Godswood, focussing instead on the task at hand. At the entrance were two guards, but they were swiftly dealt with by Symon, who put an arrow through the back of each of their throats so quickly they didn't even make a sound as they died. 

  
Outside the Godswood, the courtyard was quiet. What guards that had been stationed were already dead thanks to the other squads of Jon's men, who were now making their way towards the keep. Jon drew his katana from its sheath as he took the lead into on of the side doors that only servants used, taking the lead of Symon and a few other men who had joined them. 

  
Through the narrow passageways, Jon could tell where he was based on the different marks and turns of the passage. As a child, he had explored these very passages with Robb and Arya, learning everything there was to know about the ancient fortress's secrets. Today, that knowledge was coming in handy. The small group exited through the kitchens, which were completely empty due to the late hour. Just outside, the main hall’s entry would be to the right, but Caleb had to search the tower where the nobles lived to find Bran, Rickon and Chae. 

  
As Jon made his way towards the tower, the distant sounds of shouting and fighting could be heard, meaning that the Ironborn had finally discovered their presence. Hopefully Jon's men could hold off the reavers long enough for him to locate his cousins and friends, and maybe even capture Theon along the way. 

  
They arrived at the hall where Bran and Rickon lived, only to find it surprisingly empty. That was strange, Jon assumed that the two Stark boys would have been kept under constant watch in case they tried to make an escape. Jon quickly searched through their rooms, and, finding them empty he began to feel worry creep into his soul. What happened to Bran and Rickon? Where were they? Why weren't they in bed?

  
Jon didn't want those thoughts to distract him just yet, so he moved long to where Chae's rooms were. However, unlike Bran and Rickon's rooms, the hall that Chae's room was situated had five Ironborn there, and they were trying to break into Chae’s room! The doubt and fear Jon was feeling was quickly replaced by white-hot anger. He knew exactly what the Ironborn were planning to do, so he charged forward.

  
The closest Ironborn was already dead, a katana straight through the back of his skull and out the other side before his friends even realised they were being attacked. The second followed quickly after due to an arrow through the side of his throat, and the last three soon fell to Jon as quickly as the first two, their blood splattering over the Jeonsa's face and armour like paint. Jon kicked the bodies out of the way and tried to open the door, but found it barred. The door had a hatchet still lodged in it, like the Ironborn had tried to hack their way into the room, so he pulled it out and tossed it aside. Chae must have barricaded herself inside in an attempt to stop the Ironborn from getting in, and no amount of force would allow Jon inside anytime soon. So Jon decided to do the complete opposite of what the Ironborn had been attempting.

  
“Chae?” he said, knocking on the door firmly so that she could hear him over the chaos going on outside. When there was no response, he tried again, this time speaking in YiTish so that she would know it was him. “_Chae? It's me, Jon_.”

  
There was a loud shuffling on the other side of the door, followed by the thud of something heavy falling to the floor before the door swung open. There stood Chae, wearing a navy-blue nightgown, her hair loose but wild like a black curtain. There were dark circles under her eyes, a stark contrast to her pale skin, and she looked like she'd been through hell, but to Jon, Chae was easily the most beautiful thing he had seen in over a year and a half. His memory of her certainly hadn't seemed to have done her justice.

  
Chae's face took on a variety of expression in a few short seconds. First, confusion, then disbelief as if she didn't believe that Jon was standing in front of her, then shock and lastly, joy. Chae choked back a sob before she flung herself at Jon, uncaring of the blood and gore on his armour, and Jon barely had time to catch her before her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. Jon's katana dropped to the stone floor with a loud clang as he wrapped his own arms around Chae's narrow waist, and it felt like there was nothing else in the world but them as they embraced, reunited after such a long time of fighting and chaos. 

  
When they finally did pull away, Jon was heedless to the knowing stares of his men as he looked over the woman he loved. Other than the obvious exhaustion and disarray of her hair, Chae seemed otherwise unharmed. 

  
“_Are you alright?_” he asked.

  
“_I'm well, now that you're here_,” said Chae with a soft, loving smile.

  
Jon returned the smile, then looked at the bodies of the Ironborn he and Symon had killed. “_What were they doing here? Where's Chizuru?_”

  
“_In the dungeons. She refused to listen to Theon, so he cast her there. When you invaded, some of Theon's men tried to take advantage of the situation to try and have their way with me,_” said Chae. 

  
Jon unconsciously growled, but there was nothing he could do about that. The would-be rapists were dead, but at least it had been by his own hand. Just then, one of Jon's men appeared around the corner, his sword slick with Ironborn blood and breathing heavily. However, the man looked happy.

  
“My lord, the castle is ours and the Greyjoy traitor has been captured,” he said breathily. 

  
Jon nodded as he felt his spirits elevate even further. “Good work. Tell everyone to assemble in the main courtyard, and bring Greyjoy with you. I wish to see him for myself before I take his head,” he ordered firmly. 

  
The messenger nodded before he retreated back from where he came. Symon approached, a cocky grin on his face as he slung his bow over his shoulder.

  
“Chae, this is Ser Symon, one of the finest archers in the Riverlands,” said the Jeonsa. 

  
“My lady,” greeted Symon as he bowed and kissed Chae's hand. “Lord Jon would not stop going about your beauty, yet it pleases me to see that his descriptions were not exaggerated in the slightest.”

  
Jon rolled his eyes at the knight's antics, but he picked up his katana, sheathed it then led Chae, Symon and his men back out to the courtyard. It was already full of the men he had led, as well as most of Winterfell's servants, though Jon noted the obvious absences of Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik. That left the young warrior feeling a little concerned, but he pushed that aside as he approached Will, who was standing in the centre of the courtyard with a grim expression on his face. 

  
Not a single man of Jon's was clean, every single one of them covered from head to toe in gore. Jon checked to see if Chae was okay, but she maintained a stoic expression, which caused Jon's concern to grow a little. What had she seen to create such insensitivity to violence? At the feet of many Northern warriors were the Ironborn survivors, who all looked angry and ready to attack at any second despite the overwhelming odds. When Jon and Chae approached Will, he nodded at them.

  
“How many did we lose?” asked Jon.

  
“The siege was almost flawless, and most of the Ironborn were already dead by the time they knew what was happening, but we lost seven good men this night,” informed Will. 

  
Jon nodded grimly, saddened by the deaths of those men. However, he nodded towards the captured Ironborn. “Are they all that's left?” he asked.

  
“As far as we know. I've sent a few men to search the castle for any that might have escaped,” said Will.

  
“Good man. Also, go down to the dungeons and release Chizuru, you remember her correct? Find her and give her something to eat, I will have a look at these ones,” said Jon. Will bowed and walked in the direction of the dungeons while Jon then walked over to stand in front of the prisoners. There were twenty of them, all ugly and had stocky builds. Most of them had a few scars on their faces, some uglier than others, giving them all a hardened appearance. All but one of them was glaring up at Jon with hate-filled eyes, and it was the one who wasn't looking at Jon who he stopped in front of.

  
“Look at me,” growled Jon quietly. 

  
Theon looked up, his black hair hanging limp and his green eyes tired and scared. Jon wanted to cut down the Greyjoy right then and there for all the pain he'd caused his family, but he resisted. Now wasn't the time for vengeance. He looked at Rickard and nodded his head.

  
“Take them all to the dungeons to await trial, we'll deal with them later,” he ordered.

  
Rickard nodded and hoisted up one of the Ironborn with one arm so easily the reaver might as well have been made out of feathers, while other Northmen did the same. However, three stupidly brave Ironborn decided to try and rush Jon, daggers drawn. Jon drew his katana just in time to parry the blow of one of the men, pushing Chae hard so she was away from the danger. He spun around and severed the hand of the closest attacker, then parried two more strikes from the other two before ducking and spinning, and in one fluid move disembowelled them both at the same time. The two men's guts dropped to the floor with a sickening squelching noise before their bodies did, and Jon relaxed his posture and stood over the screaming man who lost his hand. However, there was a shout, and another Ironborn tried to catch Jon off-guard, but Theon appeared out of nowhere and shoulder-charged the man, knocking them both over. The action surprised Jon, but two Northmen came and separated the two, with one of the men punching Theon across the cheek for good measure, even though it was entirely unnecessary. The other Ironborn was lifted up and dragged to the dungeons, all the while he was kicking and shouting curses at both Jon and Theon.

  
“Throw Theon into a room away from the dungeons, I would have words with him after I deal with this man,” said Jon. His orders were met with quick obedience and Theon was harshly taken back to the keep, while Jon continued to loom over the disabled Ironborn. 

  
The Ironborn was completely unaware of Jon, until he was kicked harshly in the ribs. The man looked up, tears in his wormy green eyes, though the anger and hate was still there. Jon pointed the tip of his blade so that it was resting directly underneath the man's chin, and he froze. The remaining Ironborn was a big man, and he looked like the hardest of them all.

  
“What is your name?” asked Jon.

  
“Dagmer,” grunted the man.

  
“You tried to kill me,” said Jon.

  
“I'd do it again too. You're a good for nothing bastard, and when I get the chance I'll cut your hand off and make you watch as I fuck your pretty foreign girl!” snarled Dagmer. 

  
Jon felt his eye, the one that had the scar over it from his duel with Jaime Lannister twitch slightly at the threat. 

  
“A shame you will never get that chance,” said Jon. “Hold him in place.”

  
The courtyard simmered with eager anticipation as they prepared for the execution. Dagmer was pulled up by two men and forced to kneel, Jon stood moved to stand to the side with his katana held at the ready.

  
“In the name of Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North I sentence you to die, Dagmer,” he said quietly yet seriously. “If you have any last words, now is the time to say them.”

  
Dagmer looked up at Jon, then spat at his feet. “Fuck you,” he spat, then he bowed his head and said no more. 

  
Jon raised his katana, then with a swift stroke downwards, the Valyrian steel sliced through flesh and bone like it wasn't there, severing Dagmer's head from his shoulders. The head fell to the floor with a low thud as blood spurted out from the stump. Jon nodded grimly for the body to be taken away, then looked at Ulfric and Symon, his two remaining lieutenants.

  
“Hang the Stark colours again, and prepare a search party for Bran and Rickon,” he ordered before sheathing his sword. He then took Chae by the hand and led her back to the keep.

  
Twenty minutes later, a raven was sent South towards Riverrun.

  
_Lord Stark,_

  
_Winterfell has been reclaimed. The Ironborn have been taken prisoner, and once again the direwolf of your House flies upon the battlements._

  
_Signed,_

  
_Jon Snow, the Demon of the North and Commander of the Company of the Demon. _


	16. A Traitor's Death

With Winterfell back in Stark control, preparations were made to ready the castle for the coming Ironborn who were still on their way to garrison the place, as they didn't know that Jon had taken it back. Already the grey direwolf head of House Stark was hanging from the towers and battlements, the sign that the North was about to recover from the harsh razes under the hand of the Ironborn. 

  
Chizuru had been found and reunited with Chae. The older YiTish woman looked a little malnourished and fatigued, but her iron will was still as strong as ever. She'd been happy to see Jon again, and even commented on the weapons Hasashi had given him before she was taken away to be given a proper meal and a bath. Jon had no such luxury as he prepared his men for the upcoming battle.

  
However, despite the swift victory for the North, no one had found Bran or Rickon. Maester Luwin seemed to have vanished as well, and no one knew where they were or what happened to them. But if there was one person who might have an idea, it would be Theon Greyjoy. 

  
But Jon had to see Chae again first. 

  
He found her back in her room, though this time she was accompanied by Chizuru. The Totoisha’s hair had grown down to her shoulders, though knowing Chizuru, she would probably cut it short again as soon as she was able to. Her skin was a little sallow and pale, but Chizuru still looked strong enough. The room itself was largely unchanged, there were still YiTish banners hanging from the walls, and the small shrine used for worshipping the Lion-of-Night and the Maiden-Made-Of-Light still sat upon the mantelpiece. Both women looked up when Jon entered, and Chae stood up. However, when Jon saw that Chizuru was there he stopped.

  
“_Oh, I can come back later if I'm interrupting something_,” he said awkwardly. 

  
“_No, no it's fine. I was getting ready to go to bed anyway_,” said Chizuru as she too stood up and stretched her back out. “_It will be nice to sleep in a real bed for once.”_

  
As the older Jeonsa left, she gave her charge a knowing look that had the younger woman blushing. Then she stopped and patted Jon on the shoulder.

  
“_It is good to see you again Jon,_” she said in a genuinely affectionate voice.

  
“_It is good to see you too_,” replied Jon. Chizuru nodded once, a small smile on her face before she took her leave, closing the door behind her.

  
There was a brief pause of silence, before Jon and Chae both crashed into each other, their lips sealing together as they finally had a moment to themselves. Both their movements were frantic, that slight fear that this moment would be ripped from them very quickly if they didn't act now. But Jon was more than a little surprised by Chae's fierceness; he remembered her being far more diminutive and shy. Now, she was almost like a feral animal as she gripped his chest armour tightly to pull him closer as her lips devoured his. Though, Chae had always possessed an inner fire within her, though rarely it was ever directed at Jon. Gods, it had been so long since he had held her. His memories paled in comparison to the real thing, and he was savouring the moment for as long as he could.

  
When they finally pulled away, breathless and love-struck, Jon took the time to look Chae over. Her hair had grown longer, almost to her waist now, and her skin was as fair as ever, maybe even lighter than Jon remembered. Yes, she was still as beautiful as the last time he had seen her, but that beauty could have been exploited.

  
“_Did he touch you?”_ asked Jon. There was no question as to _who_ he was referring to. 

  
“_No_,” answered Chae with a shake of her head. “_He was actually trying to protect me from his men, though I would have gelded him if he tried anything anyway.”_

  
Jon smirked at his love's fierceness. He pushed some loose hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, relishing in its softness. He was glad that despite the horrors he had seen in the past year and a half, there was still beauty in the world, even if he had been separated from it. 

  
Chae then frowned and softly traced the scar that ran down his left brow and cheek, the most obvious scar he had received from battle. “_This wasn't here when I last saw you,”_ she said quietly.

  
“_It was a gift from Jaime Lannister,_” said Jon. “_I repaid him though_.”

  
“_I heard the tales. Jon Snow, the Demon who crippled the Kingslayer,_” said Chae with a wry smile.

  
Jon groaned. “_Tell me that's not what they call me here_,” he said exasperatedly.

  
“_Sadly it's true. You might as well get used to it, your stories had been the only thing keeping the people of Winterfell hopeful while the Ironborn were in control,_” said Chae. 

  
At the mention of the Ironborn, Jon suddenly remembered about his younger cousins.

  
“_Damn it. I need to find Bran and Rickon. Where are they?_” he asked.

  
Chae's face fell, replaced with a deep sadness. “_I'm sorry Jon, but Theon claimed to have killed them_,” she said.

  
Jon's heart clenched, and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He heard the words that Chae had spoken, yet his heart and mind didn't understand. He took a step back from the woman and shook his head.

  
“I don't... I don't understand,” he said, switching to Common Tongue. 

  
“_Bran and Rickon escaped with their wolves and that wildling girl Robb captured and brought back, so Theon led a search party to find them_,” explained Chae, “_He came back with the burned bodies of two boys who looked to be about the same age as your brothers and hung them from the battlements for everyone to see, claiming they were Bran and Rickon._”

  
Jon felt his emotions swirling within him like a storm. His two youngest cousins, murdered by a man they had loved like a brother. Bran, adventurous and curious of everything, with dreams of becoming a knight. Those were taken away when he fell from the tower, leaving him without his legs. That hadn't stopped him from aspiring to becoming like his father and older brother. And Rickon, sweet little Rickon who was only eight, a boy whose veins ran with the Wolf's Blood, a wild, untameable boy. And Theon had killed them.

  
“_There's more you should know_,” continued Chae, seeming to sense the murderous intentions Jon had towards the former ward of Winterfell.

  
“_What?_” said Jon a little more harshly than he intended.

  
“_I don't think Bran and Rickon are dead_,” said Chae.

  
That brought Jon up short, dispelling all the rage and grief he was feeling in an instant. “_What makes you say that?_” he asked.

  
“_Well for one thing, they left with the wildling and their wolves,_” pointed out Chae. “_If Theon really had killed them, he would have brought the others' bodies with him to show everyone as well. But I doubt Theon would have even survived if the direwolves were there._”

  
That made sense to Jon. He'd seen firsthand what two direwolves could do on the battlefield. A party of Ironborn would have been easy for Summer and Shaggydog. 

  
“_I need to confirm this,_” said Jon. He felt a keen need to learn the fates of his two cousins, and he had to do it immediately.

  
As he made for the door, Chae asked, “_Where are you going?_”

  
“_To speak with the traitor_,” answered Jon.

  
So Jon, despite being tired from the night's raid and still in his bloodied armour, marched alone to where Theon was being held in his old rooms. The two Stark men guarding the door gave him a slight nod before moving aside to let the young Jeonsa in.

  
Theon's old rooms had been completely destroyed. The bed had been overturned and ripped to pieces, the bed frame broken to pieces, and all the draws and tables splintered. Anything of value had already been taken out, and Caleb suspected that his men had decided that the traitor who lived here didn't deserve the basic human needs. Theon himself had made a makeshift bed on the stone floor out of what was left of his clothes and furs, making the area look like a nest on the floor made out of scraps. He was even more bloodied and bruised than when Jon had seen him in the courtyard, no doubt having been roughed up by the newly-christened Company of the Demon. When Jon entered, Theon looked up with a wide, fearful expression.

  
“Where are Bran and Rickon?” said Jon in a low voice. 

  
“They're dead,” stammered Theon. Jon took one step forward, and Theon flinched so slightly it could have been mistaken for a shiver due to the cold. 

  
“I've been back in Winterfell for all of two hours and I've rumours that you burned the bodies of two boys and claimed they were my brothers,” said Jon. “However, Chae has told me that Bran and Rickon had been missing for some time beforehand, which leads me to believe that you lost them and to cover up your shame, you murdered to random boys and burned them to make it seem like you killed them. Am I correct?”

  
Theon looked like he was about to repeat what he had said before, but he visibly sagged and dropped his head to his chest in defeat. That was all the answer Jon needed. 

  
“Then where are they?” demanded Jon.

  
“I don't know,” said Theon. “They managed to sneak out with the help of that wildling girl, Osha and I suspect Maester Luwin. We followed them into the Wolf's Wood, but lost their trail after they crossed the stream.”

  
“So you murdered two boys and burned their bodies to pass them off as my brothers,” finished Jon.

  
“My men would never have respected me if I came back empty-handed,” said Theon.

  
Jon snorted derisively. “I don't think they'll respect you regardless after that stunt you pulled in the courtyard,” he said. When Theon gave him a quizzical look, he clarified, “when you tackled the man who tried to kill me.”

  
“Oh, that,” said Theon. He let out a rueful chuckle. “I didn't do that to save your life. I knew that if you fell, your men would have butchered us all.”

  
“No they wouldn't have,” said Jon. “We're not like the people you claim to belong to. You would have certainly died, but the rest would have been given the option of taking the black.”

  
“Am I supposed to trust the word of a man with a nickname like the Demon?” scoffed Theon.

  
“You're supposed to believe the word of the man you were raised beside!” snapped Jon angrily. His hand flexed on the pommel of his katana, an action which Theon saw and he sighed before giving up.

  
“How is Chae?” asked Theon.

  
“You don't get to say her name,” snarled Jon, his blood still boiling. “Not after what you put her and the others through. You're lucky I’m not going to leave you in a room with Chizuru, because I promise you I will be far more merciful than she ever will be.”

  
Theon swallowed thickly. The Ironborn clearly had never gotten over his fear of the Totoisha woman, even when she was his prisoner it seemed. 

  
“Are you going to kill me?” asked Theon.

  
“Yes,” said Jon bluntly. 

  
Theon nodded his head, looking resigned to his fate. “I suppose I deserve it,” he said.

  
“No. What you deserve is to have your entrails ripped out by Ghost and your body hung from the battlements for your sister to see when she arrives in the morning,” said Jon. 

  
“Will you pass the sentence yourself?”

  
“Yes.”

  
Theon nodded again. There was a long silence, during which Jon stared down at the man before him, who wouldn't look up at him in return.

  
“Why did you do it?” Jon asked.

  
“Do what?”

  
“Turn your back on us.”

  
“I never truly belonged with you,” answered Theon. “I may have been treated like I was Ned Stark's son, but I was never truly acknowledged like his children or even you were.”

  
“You were,” said Jon. “You were always welcomed at the high table with Lord and Lady Stark, whereas I was always sent to the lower tables to spare Lady Stark the shame of her husband's bastard.”

  
“But you became friend with the YiTish,” argued Theon. “You integrated yourself into their culture so well you might as well be one of them! Look at all you have accomplished under Hasashi's teachings. You've become the greatest swordsman in the entire Seven Kingdoms! You've earned the respect of men who by tradition should be angry that you have a spot on their councils! 

  
“And to top it off, Chaeyoung claims to be in love with you! You should have seen her, she held fast to the hope that you would return to save her, despite my efforts to convince her otherwise.” Theon snorted derisively to himself then. “I guess she was right though, you did come back like some dark knight.

  
“Me? I've never truly belonged anywhere. You should have seen how my father mocked me, calling me a land-loving wolf instead of the kraken I was born to be. My own men did not respect me for that very reason alone, and they questioned my every decision. I've had to do terrible things to get where I am, and it's all been for naught!”

  
“Shut up,” commanded Jon. Theon immediately closed his mouth, stunned into silence by the deep tone in Jon's voice. “You and I never truly got along, especially after Chae and the others came to Winterfell. But the Starks loved you like one of their own. Lord Stark gave you love where your own blood father had none for you. He allowed you to be raised alongside his own heir, teaching you both the things necessary for ruling. And you have gone and thrown it all away.” 

  
Jon turned around and walked towards the door, but he stopped when Theon called his name once more.

  
“Please, do not kill me,” he pled. “Allow me to take the black to restore my honour and do something good for once in my life. Please.”

  
Jon scowled. He truly, deeply wanted to take Theon's head for what he had done, but he was also aware that his uncle, one of the most honourable men alive had allowed men to join the Night's Watch for crimes almost as bad as Theon's. And becoming a man of the Night's Watch was the equivalent of a death sentence anyway; the oaths sworn upon joining only a allowed a man to depart the order upon his death.   
Jon let out a deep breath through his nose, then consented to Theon's request with a slight nod of his head. 

  
“Thank you Jon, I promise I'll-“ began Theon sincerely.

  
“I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing because the man who was your true father would have allowed you to go to the Wall,” said Jon. “But understand this; if we ever cross paths again, I'll happily kill you.”

  
Theon swallowed, then nodded his understanding. And with that, Jon left to have a quick sleep before the marching Ironborn came at sunrise.

* * *

Jon slept in longer than he should have in his old rooms, but he felt well-rested in spite of only sleeping for a few hours at most. Still armoured, he left and headed to the Southern battlements, where Ser Symon and Rickard were watching the approaching army of Ironborn still a few leagues away.

  
“Is everything prepared?” asked Jon by way of greeting.

  
“Aye, the castle is properly garrisoned once more, and we have sent a raven to the Dreadfort requesting Ramsay Snow's aid,” said Rickard in that deep, baritone voice of his. 

  
“I think we may have grossly overestimated the Ironborn's numbers,” said Symon as he observed the coming force. “I'd say there's less than four hundred men there at the most.”

  
“Only four hundred?” said Jon. “We'd be able to wait them out easily, so long as our supplies are full.”

  
“Not to mention we could wear their numbers thin as well,” added Rickard thoughtfully. 

  
“How long do you think we have until they arrive at the gates?” asked Jon to Symon.

  
“Hm, I'd give it an hour, maybe less,” said Symon. 

  
Jon nodded. “Very well. Rickard, have every fighting man available to their posts immediately, and prepare the prisoners,” he ordered.

  
“What do you want us to do with them?” asked Rickard.

  
Jon was walking away when he said, “Use them as a deterrent.”

  
As he had commanded, the twenty remaining Ironborn were brought up to the battlements right as the small army of Ironborn arrived. Jon could tell that the enemy were surprised and angry that Winterfell was back in the control of the Starks, but frankly he didn't care. Everyone on the battlements was wearing armour, except for the prisoners. Jon was flanked by Rickard on one side, holding his massive axe while on the other side, Chizuru, wearing her dark blue Jeonsa armour with her great nodachi resting on her shoulder stood on the other side. From the force outside the gates, a woman on a horse approached, flanked on either side by two men. 

  
“Asha Greyjoy,” called down Jon. “As you can see, your brother Theon has yielded Winterfell back to the Starks.”

  
“Who am I speaking to?” Asha shouted up.

  
“I am Jon Snow, son of Ned Stark,” answered Jon. Murmurs rippled through the Ironborn force, some whispering Jon's intimidating nickname with awe and fear. 

  
_I guess that's one good thing about my reputation_, Jon thought to himself. 

  
“Where is Theon? And the rest of his men?” asked Asha, seemingly immune to the rumours being spoken behind her.

  
“Theon is alive, as is the men who surrendered,” said Jon. 

  
“We are here for my brother,” said Asha. “Give him to me and we shall leave in peace.”

  
However, Jon shook his head. “I have no guarantee other than your word that you will honour that proposition,” he said. “Theon and his men will remain under my protection, as an assurance that you will not attack us.”

  
“You have my word we will leave in peace,” promised Asha.

  
“Your word? The last time a Northman trusted the word of a squid, it resulted in the situation we are in now!” spat Rickard, speaking for the first time. “Go back to the oceans you crawled out of you fucking cuttlefish!”

  
Rickard's loud declaration was met with the cheers of the Northmen, though Jon did not join in.

  
“My subordinate is right,” he said. “Theon once swore his allegiance to House Stark, but he betrayed that trust Lord Robb had for him by raiding our homes and killing our people! As far as I am concerned, you, sister of Theon cannot be trusted to keep your word!” 

  
Asha looked like she was fuming, and her jaw ticked before she said, “Give me my brother back, or I will raze this castle to the ground!”

  
Jon snorted. “You and what army, my lady? All I see with you are a bunch of rapers and reavers who know not what true warfare is,” he mocked. “Go back to your Iron Islands Lady Asha, preserve yourself and your followers your dignity and honour.” 

  
“The only dignity and honour we shall preserve will be met on the battlefield,” swore Asha, before she turned her horse around and went back to her men. 

  
“Well, at least the negotiations were short,” commented Chizuru wryly.

* * *

Later that day, the Ironborn led by Asha Greyjoy commenced. However, it was a quick affair and they soon gave up after many of them were struck down by arrows. Asha fell in battle as well, breaking the krakens’ spirits and leaving Balon Greyjoy without any heirs when Theon would finally take the black. As what was left of the Ironborn force retreated away from Winterfell, Jon ordered that the chopping block be brought out and the prisoners taken into the courtyard. 

  
“You have been defeated and now are our prisoners,” declared Jon to all the prisoners, his voice loud enough for all assembled to hear. “For your crimes, you are offered two choices: one, go to the Wall and swear yourselves an oath to serve the Night's Watch. Or you can stay here and die today. Choose for yourselves.” 

  
The twenty assembled Ironborn looked amongst themselves for a minute, having a silent conversation with each other before one of them stood up.

  
“I paid the Iron Price bastard, I shall continue to pay it with my own blood,” he said before spitting at Jon's feet, then he knelt down again.

The man's declaration was met with agreeing nods from most of the others, though a couple of them looked unsure.

  
“Is this what all of you want?” asked Jon. “Your commander Theon Greyjoy has already requested that he take the black to restore his honour. None of you shall be harmed if you wish to do the same I swear.”

  
“Theon is no Ironborn,” spat the man who spoke. “He's as Northern as the rest of you are and he deserves what he gets.”

  
“Speak for yourself,” said another Ironborn, a thin, ugly man with acne covering his face. “I wish to keep my head! I'll join the Night's Watch my lord.”

  
“Anyone else?” asked Jon. When there was no response, Jon called for the prisoners to be brought to him and laid at the chopping block. One by one, he cut the heads off of the Ironborn who wished to die until there was only Theon and the other man remaining man, who were both sent to the dungeons to await their fate. 

  
It was a long day, and the sun was only just beginning to set in the west. Jon was completely exhausted, having not had a proper sleep in a few days. He really needed to However, as he was preparing to go to his rooms for an early night, he saw Ghost standing at the closed door to the crypts.

  
“What are you doing boy?” Jon asked his wolf as he came over. Ghost responded by placing one enormous paw on the door, like he was trying to get in.

  
Strange, why would Ghost want to go down there? Jon thought. He opened the door, and in a flash Ghost zipped down the dark stairs, leaving his master behind. Jon followed though, grabbing a torch to light his way through the dark tunnels. Perhaps it was good that Ghost was eager to come down here, Jon hadn't had a chance to visit the tombs of his mother and ancestors since he'd been back. It would be good to see his mother's likeness once more, to let her know he was alive and well, but Seven Hells, the dead weren't going anywhere. 

  
Jon came to the uppermost level, where he knew his grandfather, uncle and mother were laid to rest. He saw that despite the Ironborn's takeover, the crypt was untouched, though it looked like the winter rose that had been placed in the statue of Lyanna's hands had wilted. Jon smiled though, thinking that it must have been Chae who had delivered the flower down here.

  
“Hello Mother,” he said to the statue, his voice echoing through the crypt as the thoughts of his missing direwolf vanished. “I am sorry that I haven't visited in a while, I was South, avenging the death of Uncle Ned.”

  
Of course, Mother's likeness didn't respond, but Jon liked to imagine what she might have said were she here. From what his uncle had told him, Lyanna probably would have made some crude joke about how she was currently beating Uncle Ned's head with a stick for his stupidity in King's Landing, or something along those lines. 

  
Just then, there was the soft echoes of padding feet, and Jon looked further down the crypt to see Ghost had returned, this time accompanied by-

  
“Summer? Shaggydog?” he exclaimed in shock. 


	17. Rewriting this thang

Hi folks. It's been a few months since I've last updated this story, but unfortunately a lot of things happened such as university, temporarily losing my job due to COVID and all that other nasty junk that's been going on recently. However I recently came back and read through these chapters and have some to the conclusion that while for the most part I like this story, I feel that there need to be some serious changes to it in order to make it run more smoothly and fix up some mistakes. So this is just to let you all know what's going on as there probably won't be another update for a couple of months or more because I'll be rewriting this and several other of my stories as well as posting one or two more new ones. Sorry for the massive delay, but I'll try to regularly update you all throughout the process. 

Thanks everyone!


	18. Update: A New Story

Hello folks. I know that you've been waiting for an update in regards to what is going on with this story so I thought I'd give you a head's up. With everything that has been going on, added to personal issues of my own such as mental and physical health issues, I haven't been able to do as much with T_he Princess of Yi Ti_ as I'd like. That being said, in the process of editing and making changes, I realised that nothing I wanted was working out and became frustrated with how I was trying to get the story where I wanted it to go. That being said, a new idea came to my head, one that left me feeling more excited about writing a story than I have in a long, long time. Where am I going with this?

_The Ghost of Yi Ti_. It will be a story completely different from my original work with _The Princess of Yi Ti, _however it will still feature a heavy YiTish-driven story with all of the original characters you know from _PYT, _as well as many more. Many things will be vastly different from what you enjoyed previously, though hopefully you will like these changes as well. To give a brief summary of _The Ghost of Yi Ti, _the story begins about halfway through season 2 of _Game of Thrones, _though there will be a huge jump into the past at the very end of Robert's Rebellion. What if Lyanna and the Kingsguard survived at the Tower of Joy? What if Ned helped them leave Westeros, and somehow they ended up in Yi Ti? What if Jon Snow was raised by the Jeonsa of Yi Ti and became one of their greatest warriors, but longing to return home, Jon launches an invasion of the Seven Kingdoms to take back his home and crown?

All these and more will be answered in _The Ghost of Yi Ti. _Some relationships will remain the same (I never plan of having Jon separated from Chaeyoung for longer than necessary, I can promise you that much), while others will be vastly different. So far I have written four chapters of my new story, but I still need to do a lot of editing, proof-reading and some rewrites before I'll be happy enough to start posting. That being said, I hope you'll all bear with me for just a little while longer. I plan on releasing the first chapter sometime in the coming week, and then from there I'll upload updates at least once weekly or fortnightly, depending on my schedule.

Thank you for your patience. To those who have stuck with me from the very beginning, you are all the real MVPs. Hopefully you love _The Ghost of Yi Ti _as much as _Princess of Yi Ti. _

Thanks guys.

Jade Samurai.


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